


Learning Curve

by Quinquangularist



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: M/M, edit: rating has gone up ch3 is where it starts getting real gang, not necessarily fake relationship but definitely not a traditional one either, rating's gonna go up at some point sorry sfw ppl
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:20:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27870674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quinquangularist/pseuds/Quinquangularist
Summary: "So what have you done?"George slides a piece of paper toward him, a near-empty ballpoint pen rolling on top of it. Sapnap blinks at him."Is there a box to tick for nothing?"George scrutinises him, dark eyes meeting his own across the table and he taps his fingers on its surface, one by one in quick succession, like playing a piano that isn't there."You've kissed people, right?" Like twice, maybe. Sapnap nods. "But nothing beyond that?"Sapnap shakes his head.George nods to himself, "Okay," he says, "we can start where you're comfortable."
Relationships: GeorgeNotFound/Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 234
Kudos: 674





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> well gang this is for all the ppl waiting for more pwte its on its way i promise. its also bc georgenap is Neat and im firmly team george fucks

"So what _have_ you done?" 

George slides a piece of paper toward him, a near-empty ballpoint pen rolling on top of it. Sapnap blinks at him. 

"Is there a box to tick for nothing?" 

George scrutinises him, dark eyes meeting his own across the table and he taps his fingers on its surface, one by one in quick succession, like playing a piano that isn't there. 

"You've kissed people, right?" Like twice, maybe. Sapnap nods. "But nothing beyond that?" 

Sapnap shakes his head. 

George nods to himself, "Okay," he says, "we can start where you're comfortable." 

* * *

It had started with a 3am discord call, he, Dream and George talking about everything and nothing, joking and devolving into fits of those uncontrollable nighttime giggles, and then starting back up again. Somehow Dream had gotten to the subject of body counts, and Sapnap… well. 

One of the symptoms of minecraft streamer is being a perma-virgin, and he's about to joke as much to the other two, right as George says, "For this year or like in general?" 

Dream scoffs, _"What?"_

George giggles, "No, I'm serious, cause this year so far is like five, but if you want the whole number I'm gonna need time." 

Sapnap grins at his ceiling, unable to say anything besides, "Damn, Georgie, get it!" 

Dream pauses for a moment. "You're so full of shit," he says. 

"Why would I lie?" George asks, like he genuinely doesn't understand. And honestly? Sapnap is inclined to believe him. George is pretty quiet about his sex life; he's pretty quiet about most things besides screaming during videos, and if Sapnap's definitely long-dead and absolutely not reawakening crush on him is anything to go off of, hes clearly not unattractive. 

Sapnap grins as Dream starts to argue, stammering a little as George lists off his fucking conquests with very little emotion like some kind of serial killer. "George teach me your ways," he whines, exaggeratedly, "help me become a sex machine like you, and cure me of my turbo-virgin disease!" 

Dream wheezes and George giggles, and Sapnap feels warm pride deep in his chest at making them laugh. 

"Dude, I'll find you somebody," Dream says, interrupted by George asking, "Nobody, Sap? I find that hard to believe." 

Sapnap laughs, just a little self-deprecating,"C'mon, I'm a minecraft streamer, I'm not exactly _sexy_ and I'm mostly nocturnal. Who could I possibly be fucking?" Dream hums disapprovingly.

"I'll set you up with someone-" 

"No you will not! I'm not gonna go on a date with a streamer and have them tell their entire chat or put up a vlog about it when I royally fuck it up!" There is a momentary silence. Sapnap feels like he may not have sounded as jovial as he meant to. 

"Sap," George says, "if you're really unsure of yourself, I mean, if you want, I could sort of- I could teach you some stuff? Just so you're not out of your depth."

Sapnap blinks in the dark, turns his head on impulse like he could face George, and then feels stupid for it, "Really?" 

"Yeah, of course." 

"I- yeah okay. Sure, I'd like that. Thank you," he says, and hears something like a sigh from the call, like George was nervous to ask him.

"Great," George says, "cool, um- come to mine on Saturday?" Sapnap nods, and then remembers they can't see him.

"Yeah, sure. I'll be over whenever I wake up," he snickers.

"I think we should go on a triple date," Dream says, and George laughs.

"Yeah, no thanks, I heard you both on my love or host, I'm not going on a date and bringing my sugar daddy and my side ho with me." 

"Oooh he called you his side ho, Dream!”

* * *

They start where he's comfortable. As comfortable as he can be when he's about to be taught how to kiss anyway. 

He expects pointers, directions maybe. He doesn't expect George to nod toward the couch and sit across from him. Sapnap pulls his leg up onto the cushion, and lays his hands down on his shin, feels the tension rise in his gut.

"So," George says, "are you okay to just… go for it?" Sapnap blinks, nods.

"Um- yeah, okay," and then George's hand rises to his face, and oh _,_ _George is going to kiss him_. His thumb is soft against his jaw, trailing to the corner of his lips, so gently that Sapnap's eyes fall closed on their own, and when George's lips press against his, it's chaste, sweet and yielding so that Sapnap has every opportunity to pull away. 

When they part, George's hand falls away and Sapnap watches him sit back, watches his lips curl slightly, "That was good," he says, quietly, "we can try more if you like?" Sapnap nods, takes a shaky breath.

"Where," he whispers, "do I um- where do I put my hands?"

George's smile widens and he lets out a sigh that's almost a laugh, "It's easier if we're closer," he murmurs, hand hovering a few inches above his leg, "may I?"

Sapnap shrugs, "Sure," and George takes hold of his leg, stretches it out along the couch cushions and sets himself down closer, pulls Sapnap's other leg into his lap gently. His legs look long and thin with Sapnap's big thigh over them, and Sapnap lifts it up slightly, to alleviate the weight.

George turns to him, "You can really put your hands wherever, but face is good," he reaches forward, cups Sapnap's jaw, and all Sapnap can do is look at him, his pink lips his dark eyes, expression soft, "or in their hair," George's hand travels back behind Sapnap's ear, fingers tangling in the soft hair at the nape of his neck, drawing George slightly closer and Sapnap wants to sigh, curls his hands into the fabric of the couch beneath him.

"Chest is also good," George says, his free hand rising to to lie flat against Sapnap's sternum, warm through his shirt, "or their hips." George concludes, letting his hand fall to rest where his thigh meets his hips, thumb drawing small semicircles that make Sapnap shudder.

He nods, clutches the couch for a little longer and prays for his hands not to be sweaty.

"Of course," George says, "when you get close enough you can always just wrap your arms around them, run your hand down their spine," he's trailing his fingertips over the back of Sapnap's neck, and it's getting difficult to focus with how hard he's trying to keep his breathing steady, "so let's try that much again, and you see if you can do something with your hands, yeah?" 

"Y- yeah."

When George draws close again, Sapnap unclenches his fists, feels the gentle touch of George's lips against his own and shakily, slowly, raises his hands to thread his fingers through the soft, dark hair at the back of his head, and feels George hum with approval and ticklish, fluttering warmth bloom in his chest in response. 

George is smiling against his lips, moving slowly so that they're almost chest to chest, Sapnap shifting his legs to accommodate without thinking. 

Sapnap curls his fingers, shudders as George's hand moves up along his side, feels the urge to lean back, to let George fall toward him, 

"More?" George asks, barely breathed into his skin, and Sapnap feels himself nod without permission, feels George take his lower lip between his own gently, once, before releasing it, and the warm tip of George's tongue against the seam of his lips, soft and tentative, before parting them slightly to let him in. 

George kisses like he knows exactly what he's doing, like he's completely in control, and Sapnap is just pulled along by the current. He pushes, but gently, shifts so that he's supporting Sapnap, guiding him down so that his back touches the armrest, before trailing gentle fingertips down his sides, along his ribs so that Sapnap gasps, rises up toward him.

Sapnap's hands shake, and, feeling reckless, he runs his hand over George's spine, slips his thumb underneath the hem of his shirt when he reaches his lower back, and George sighs, makes the fluttering in Sapnap's chest feel like it's glowing, warm and bright.

George takes the opportunity to push, deep like he's searching, or just chasing whatever he's found in Sapnap worth having, and his hands either side of Sapnap's hips, firm but not cruel, thumbs sinking gently into the softness there to set Sapnap shivering again.

George pulls back slightly, still nose to nose with him, murmurs, "That was good, well done," and Sapnap swallows, nods slightly and finds that he can't quite form words yet. 

George, as he rises, lets his hands move along Sapnap's thighs, and he notices how close they've gotten, George pressed up against him as Sapnap's legs curl around his waist. Sapnap uncrosses his legs, shifts back and sits up as nonchalantly as he can, still slightly overwhelmed by it all. 

If he concentrates he can almost feel the pressure of George's lips against his own, the soft slide of his tongue. Heat curls, languid and unacknowledged until now, low in his gut as George looks at him.

His lips are pinker than before, and he watches Sapnap with big, dark eyes and a slight smile that sits just this side of too sharp. 

"Well?" he says. 

Sapnap blinks, "What?" 

"Well what did you think?" George grins, somewhere between exasperated and kind, "Do you think you learned anything? Would you like to learn more?"

Sapnap nods, and then again, less embarrassingly eager. "Yeah," he breathes. 

"What would you like to learn?" 

Sapnap stares for a split second, George's hands still resting on his thighs, says "Everything you'll teach me," without thinking. 

George blinks at him. 

"Okay," he nods. 

They are back at the table again, and George is writing a list. He seems to enjoy lists, clarity and rules that he can fall back on if he's uncertain, and if Sapnap is honest, it is a nice thought.

He watches George write, brow drawn down and pen scrawling across the page, held in one of the hands that Sapnap can't stop thinking about bracketing his hips, splayed against his sides, his back. There is a sound of crinkling and the paper is in front of him. 

"So," George shrugs, "just tick off whatever you feel comfortable with. I'm letting you know right now I don't do piss shit or blood, and I don't bottom." It's so business-like and cursory that Sapnap laughs, before stopping himself. 

He looks at the list. 

George's handwriting is pretty, if not easily legible, and the list starts off fairly tame; how and where to give hickeys, etiquette for oral, the basics of sex with other men, and George speaks again, "Obviously there are some things I can't teach you," he says, "but whatever you want to learn."

He reads further down the list, veering more into niche stuff, kink stuff, and Sapnap slowly but surely makes his way down the line, checks next to each listed item, hesitates for a moment on sadomasochism, before ticking that one too, and when the list is finished he hands it back to George, trying not to look overly nervous. 

George scans the page, meets Sapnap's eyes over it and all at once Sapnap feels like he's at school again, like his work has been seen, judged, and found wanting, and his stomach drops slightly, before George raises an eyebrow, "Did you just tick everything?" 

Sapnap nods, finds his voice, "Yeah. Is that okay?" 

George studies him, briefly, and Sapnap chews his lower lip, fiddles with the pen still in his hand. "It's fine," George says, "I just wasn't expecting… this, for you, I mean," he begins to smile, "you really just want to learn?" 

"If you don't mind-"

"-I wouldn't have offered if I did."

"...Right."

"Just," George gestures vaguely with the list, "feel free to take any of this back, okay? You don't have to do this shit to impress me, I'm already impressed you showed up."

Sapnap shrugs, "It's not brave or anything."

"Yes it is." George scoffs, but Sapnap just looks at him, shakes his head.

"It's not. I trust you," he says, and something in George's expression softens. The hand holding the list drops. He scowls like he's endlessly bemused by Sapnap, before folding and tucking the paper into his back pocket.

There is a brief moment of silence between them before George tilts his head, "...So do you want to do more kissing or do you feel ready to move forward? Actually, y'know what, let's take things slow." 

It seems so easy for George—to pull him back toward the couch, hands firm and lips soft, and Sapnap, mostly, wants to do what he's told. Wants to feel George's fingertips slip underneath his shirt, ticklish and hair raising, and keeps his own hands against George's chest or tangled in his hair, just like he's been taught. 

George tugs, sits back down and keeps them pressed together with palms on the small of Sapnap's back, guiding him down onto his lap and Sapnap pulls away, shudders at the way George's lips shine and the gentle exploration of his fingertips, "I'm heavy," he murmurs, eloquently, trying to keep himself off of George's thighs, but George's grip shifts to his hips and he pulls Sapnap down, not roughly, but decisive.

"It's fine," he says, and looks at Sapnap, almost hungry, "relax," and trails a hand up Sapnap's spine, draws him back down to nip his lower lip gently, before pushing further, deep and slow and sure, and Sapnap allows himself to lean into it, to let the tension melt from him under George's steady hands. 

George can't seem to get enough of him, and every new movement he makes draws shivers, quiet hums, gasps from Sapnap that only spur him on. George pulls away, looks almost as dazed as Sapnap feels, before murmuring, "Let me-" and pressing a line of soft, hot kisses down Sapnap's jaw, and downward, to his neck, where he repeats, "let me?"

Sapnap doesn't know what he's talking about, nods regardless, he'd let George do whatever he wanted.

George hums, pulls Sapnap down closer, flush chest to chest, before his hands are up under Sapnap's shirt, along his sides and George mouths at his throat, licks skin Sapnap never knew was so sensitive, and sighs when he gasps, holds him tighter. 

Sapnap clings to George, arms around his shoulders and squeezing his legs around George's hips, not thinking enough to feel too big for this, too heavy to be wrapped around someone as wiry and delicate. It only seems to make George want more, humming against Sapnap when his thighs clamp down, and Sapnap is caressed, shuddering, by hands that pull him closer, closer still toward the dull sting and warm, ticklish sensation of George's lips and teeth, the wet heat of his tongue.

Sapnap wants to moan, wants to murmur George's name but the clench in his gut won't let him. What if he sounds ridiculous? 

He can't help but sigh, though, breath slightly ragged and finally, George pulls away, and Sapnap takes his face in his hands, draws him into a kiss.

The air is cold against his neck now and he's so close to George he could grind down on him if he wanted to, try to alleviate the burning, writhing heat that sits just inward from the base of his spine, but he doesn't. Sapnap just kisses George, a little more desperately than he'd been taught, but George seems no less pleased with the result.

He feels George smile against him, and he breathes, "Very good," before pulling back.

The warmth in Sapnap expands again at the praise, and he hums back, not quite ready to open his eyes yet. When he does, though, George is just… looking at him. 

"George?" 

"Hm?" 

"Are um- are we gonna do more?" 

George's eyes seem fixed just below his jaw, and he blinks a couple of times before looking back up at him, pulling away slightly, "Ah- I think we're doing pretty good for today, and I dunno about you, but I'm starving. You wanna go for lunch somewhere?" 

Sapnap blinks. He can feel George's hands against his hips shift slightly, becomes painfully aware of their positioning. 

"Oh," he says, "yeah, sure!" Sapnap clambers off of George, laughs a little nervously, feeling all at once like the room is shrinking around him, like he's going to turn too quickly and knock something down and break it. 

* * *

They go for lunch. George picks out a stupid little hipster café and Sapnap drives.

Sapnap gets a smoothie. George gets coffee, and they sit at one of the rough-hewn wooden tables and eat mediocre sandwiches. They almost slip into their usual rapport, except that George, Sapnap notices, keeps _looking_ at him. 

"What?" he says. 

George raises an eyebrow, "What, what?"

Sapnap shrugs, "You're like- lookin' at me dude." 

"Well yeah, I'm talking to you?" 

Sapnap shakes his head, drinks his smoothie and leans back, "Whatever man," he grins, more than a little awkward. George grins back, drinks his coffee. 

They talk about everything and nothing, George's cat, Sapnap's classes, and the entire time Sapnap feels George's eyes on him. 

The noise of the cafe is strangely comforting. Something to fall back on when they lapse into silence, and Sapnap finishes his smoothie, sets the empty plastic cup on his plate and peoplewatches, leans against his hand. 

A kid being pulled along by her mother looks at him, so he waves, pulls a face, and George chuckles, shakes his head. "What," Sapnap grins back, "you don't wave at strangers?" 

"Not usually, no,"

Sapnap shrugs, "Your loss," and stands, "I'm gonna go to the bathroom." 

George nods at his coffee, "Cool."

The café doesn't have a men's or ladies' room, it's fairly small, but the bathroom they do have is unoccupied, and decently clean. 

Sapnap flushes, wanders over to the sink, washes, can't help but glance at himself in the mirror and _holy shit, his neck._

Sapnap raises a hand, slowly pokes the hickey he hadn't noticed was very, very visible, and frowns at the dull ache and the unpleasant sensation of forgetting his hands were wet. The mark is mauve against his olive skin, just above the collar of his shirt, and incredibly obvious. 

No wonder George had been staring.

Sapnap looks at it a while longer, runs his fingertips over the skin and can't help but shudder slightly. This isn't going to fade for a while. Sapnap bites down on the inside of his lip. Something about it puts a warm feeling in his chest, knowing he's going to have this for a few days at least.

If he wanted to, he could almost pretend it was because George wanted to mark Sapnap as his. Of course, that wouldn't happen, but the idea of George wanting him, wanting some claim over him, is a lot to think about, and Sapnap watches his face go pink in the mirror.

There's a knock at the bathroom door.

"Sorry," Sapnap calls, leaves the bathroom to let the frazzled middle aged woman in behind him. He stands in the little alcove by the bathroom door.

He touches his neck.

He swallows, thickly, attempts to clear his head, and walks back to the table. George is doing something on his phone, says,

"Hey," and doesn't look up.

"Hey," Sapnap says, tries to sit in a way that doesn't make him look as tense as he feels. 

He messes with his hair, looks at George and then at the table as George raises his cup, mostly empty, and drinks, makes a face, "Eugh," he murmurs, "it's got like- grit,"

"Coffee grounds?"

"Yeah." 

Sapnap nods, and when George looks at him, he can't help but notice the way his gaze keeps flicking down to where Sapnap now knows he's had a mark bitten into his skin.

Maybe George is embarrassed that it's so noticeable.

Sapnap raises his hand to cover his neck as casually as possible, and George's eyes snap back to his face. "You good?" 

"Hm? -Yeah, um," George glances down at the table, "let me pay for this." 

"What? No, I'll-"

"-No you drove, it's fine, wait here," and George rises, makes his way to the counter. Sapnap presses his thumb against the mark gently.

The drive home is slightly uncomfortably quiet.

George suggests they wait before doing anything more. He gets out of the car, waves goodbye, smiling, and heads inside. 

Sapnap stares after him.


	2. Chapter 2

Sapnap has been frowning at his phone for twenty minutes. He's in his dms with George, lying across his bed, thumbs poised over keys, lip chewed up between his teeth and brow drawn down. 

_"Did I do smth to upset you today?"_

No, he shakes his head, his nose scrunching up like he's smelled something awful. That sounds pushy. 

_"Hey, are you free to do another lesson?"_

Too eager. 

_"Sorry abt the mark I didn't even notice it_

_Shoulda covered it up"_

No, that's not right either, he sighs and makes to spam backspace- 

He sends the message. 

Sapnap's stomach drops. 

"Fuck," he hisses. 

George's little green dot lights up before Sapnap has the wherewithal to delete it and anxiety twists, cold, in his gut. 

George is typing. 

This, in itself, is anomalous. George never replies. The _Gogy_ _is typing_ text disappears. Reappears. Disappears again. 

**_"It's my fault really, i didn't tell you it was there lol"_ **

There's a brief pause. 

**_"Besides, it didn't bother me."_ **

Sapnap blinks. It didn't bother him. He feels brave for a moment, responds, 

_"Admiring your work then?"_

What follows is a moment of horrible nothingness, of sheer, terrifying silence and Sapnap bites the hard skin at the edge of a nail, ready to turn the entire thing into a joke, and then George replies, 

**_"Maybe…_ ** **👀** **_"_ **

Sapnap grins, presses his hand against his mouth, face heating up,

_"Is it weird that I kind of like it?"_

**_"No"_ ** , George's response is almost instantaneous, **_"It's not weird! We can practice hickeys next time if you want?"_ **

Sapnap feels his face heat up, and warmth twist up his insides, 

_"Sure, when's good for you?"_

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


They meet the following weekend. George has him come over early again, and Sapnap can't help but wonder whether, when they get that far, George will have him stay over after the actual sex part. 

George smiles at him as he opens the door, and Sapnap feels his eyes linger on the yellowing, faded mark he'd had to cover up in class, and all his insides flutter. 

"Hey," he says, and George shuts the door behind him. 

"Hey yourself," George teases, "you practice anything we did last time?" 

Sapnap blinks at him. 

"Huh? No, was I supposed to?" but George laughs. 

"I meant like-" he smiles, softer, "never mind. Y'know, you can practice with me if you want." 

Sapnap's stomach drops and he swallows thickly, "For real?" 

"Yeah." 

"Oh. Thank you." 

George snickers, "Yeah, no problem, now c'mon," he nods toward the stairs. 

George's room is nice, if a little plain, with white walls and blue bedspreads and a guitar in the corner. 

"Do you play?" 

"Hm? Oh, not really anymore," he scoffs, sits on the bed, "I figured you might be more comfortable up here." 

Sapnap takes this as an invitation to sit next to him, not quite as tense as their first lesson, but it's a near thing. 

They speak at once, 

"Can we-"

"Do you-" and George halts, "sorry, you go first." 

Sapnap falters, tries to hide the white-knuckled grip he has on the duvet. "Um," he says, "can we maybe do more kissing first?" It comes out softer than he means it to, and he looks anywhere except at George, but George nods, 

"Yeah, of course," and turns to face Sapnap, who does the same.

George pats his thigh, raises his eyebrows at Sapnap, "You can get up like last time if you want?" 

Sapnap pauses for a moment, chews on his lip, and nods, "Okay," voice still cracking more than he'd like. 

"Actually," George murmurs, "lets try this." 

He crosses his legs, "you sit here and put your legs-" Sapnap toes his shoes off, does as he's told, and ends up with his legs around George's hips, and George's hands on his thighs, "yeah," George smiles, "how's this?" 

Sapnap tries not to think about how easily George could pull their hips together, grind up against him. 

"Sure," he says, "this works." 

"Great," George's thumbs shift against his thighs, and Sapnap suppresses a shiver, "ready?" 

He nods, "Mhm." 

It's exactly as overwhelming as the first time, and George seems just as determined to run his hands over every inch of Sapnap, leaving goosebumps in his wake.

It's easier to respond now, though, and Sapnap drags his nails through George's hair gently, feels his grip, now on Sapnap's hips, tighten. 

"Mm, good," George hums against his lips, licks his way forward, pushing and guiding until he's got Sapnap on his back, arms wrapped around George's shoulders, and Sapnap thinks that might be the best feeling in the world, George's praise. 

George hangs over him, warm and overwhelming and everywhere, and Sapnap revels in it, loves the feeling of George's lips, his hands, the weight pressing him back against the soft bed. 

When George pulls back his breaths are heavy, and Sapnap looks up at him, red-lipped and dark-eyed, and wonders if this is what it will look like when George fucks him. 

Heat spreads in his gut and he shifts slightly, feeling only worsened by George's thighs pressing into the backs of his own. 

He's almost painfully hard as George dips back down, sucks on his lower lip briefly before kissing the spot just above the other hickey, gently sucking on the skin and Sapnap just wants to tilt his head back and melt under George's hands, his mouth, but he murmurs, "Wait." 

George pulls away, looks at him, not quite concerned, but still reassuring, and Sapnap's chest warms at the knowledge that George cares this much about him being comfortable, 

"What's up? Too fast?" 

"No, um," Sapnap runs a hand through his hair, "just- can we not do up high on my neck? Just cause of classes and stuff," 

"Oh," George smiles, "yeah sure! So, is your chest okay?"

Sapnap's guts twist, and he feels the bed, the floor, the world, drop out from under him.

"Um, I kind of-" he feels George's hands resting at his sides, feels the dip he makes in the mattress, all of a sudden feels two sizes two big for everything else in the room, "I don't want to take my shirt off," he says, so quietly he barely hears it himself over the blood rushing to his face, "not yet." 

George nods, expression soft. 

"Okay, no problem," he places his hand over Sapnap's hip, smiles at him, "I don't want anything you're not comfortable with. Are you sure you still want to do this?" 

"Yes," Sapnap surprises himself with how quickly he answers, "yeah," he says again, a little less urgently, "I do want to, I just-" 

"-Don't want to take your shirt off, I get it, it's okay." 

Sapnap nods, wills himself to calm down, watches George's hand on his hip. Watches his thumb run over the seam of his jeans. He wonders what it would feel like to have George's hands on his skin instead of fabric.

"I- You could do my thighs," he whispers without thinking, "if you want." 

George stares at him for a moment, searchingly, and then licks his lips, 

"Are you sure?" 

"Yeah," Sapnap nods, "I can keep my shirt on and, y'know, probably see better and stuff." 

"Yeah," George says, but he seems distracted, "yeah let's do that." 

Sapnap keeps his boxers on, and his socks,

"So that it's not gay?" George taunts, warmly. 

Sapnap laughs, "Exactly, although you are one of the homies, so it wouldn't be gay either way." 

If George notices how ridiculously turned on he is, he doesn't mention it, just directs Sapnap to lean up against the headboard, and manhandles his legs into a position he's happy with. 

Sapnap grasps the hem of his shirt, overwarm and hyper-aware of every touch of George's fingertips, every brush of breath against his skin. George has parted his legs slightly, raised one so that the sole of his foot is flat on the mattress, and has bent down, one hand braced on Sapnap's hip, and the other on the raised knee. 

George dips, presses his lips over Sapnap's knee and smiles.

"Comfortable?" 

Sapnap nods, hums affirmation, and he is. More than he thought he could be, anyway. 

"Good," and George tilts his head, leans down and Sapnap can feel him breathe over his inner thigh, warm and ticklish. He kisses the spot gently, and Sapnap feels himself tense involuntarily as George begins to lick the soft skin, nip and suck gently as Sapnap struggles to keep still, even steadied as he is by George's hand.

The grip on his hip tightens as George, seemingly happy with his work, moves lower, pulls Sapnap's leg spread further and Sapnap shudders, presses his clenched fist against his lips as George goes to work on a spot he'd never known was sensitive. 

He gasps and George hums back, grins and bites down into his thigh, more teasing than trying to hurt him, and Sapnap lets his head fall back against the headboard, struggles not to make any overly embarrassing noises as George's thumb presses into the soft dip of his hip, tongue hot against his skin.

"Hey," George says, and Sapnap blinks back down at him, "none of that. How are you going to learn if you can't see what I'm doing?" 

Sapnap blinks, and George's voice blows cool air against the damp skin.

"Um." 

"Keep your eyes on me," George murmurs, lowly, and Sapnap struggles not to moan, "and," he reaches up, gently pulls Sapnap's hand away from where he's biting down on it, "I don't mind if you make noise, it's nothing to be ashamed of. It lets me know how I'm doing."

"Oh… Okay," Sapnap breathes, tangles his hand up in the fabric of the sheets. 

"Besides," George murmurs into his skin, and Sapnap sighs at the hum of it, "you sound good," Sapnap feels himself twitch, grips the duvet tighter and whispers, 

"Thank you," for the compliment, not believing it but warmed by the sound of it all the same. 

George works his way up along Sapnap's right thigh, and then his left, marks pink and purple and beautiful. Sapnap is sinking into thoughtlessness, completely unable to focus on anything beyond the lips and teeth against his skin. It's intoxicating, and George presses kisses between deep marks, featherlight and gentle. George pushes the leg of his boxers up to bite down into the meat of his inner thigh, and Sapnap's hips jerk forward without his permission as he gasps,

"George!" 

"Yes?," George's tone is teasing, his hands spread over his skin, press his legs wide, almost flat against the bed. He didn't know he could bend like that, and he watches his mottled skin shift to accommodate the movement, "Did you want something?" 

Sapnap blinks at him.

"Um. No?" 

George rubs tickling semicircles into his thighs, grins when Sapnap shudders,

"You sure?" 

Sapnap looks at him for a moment, gathers himself,

"...Kiss me?" 

George laughs gently, more warm than teasing now.

"Of course," he pushes himself up, hips between Sapnap's legs as he leans in, lips gentle but insistent, and Sapnap feels George's thigh, heavy and warm against him. There's no hiding how into this he is, and it might be Sapnap's imagination, but he thinks he might've felt George grind down into the crease of his hip in return.

And this, and oh God, _this_. If Sapnap could do nothing but kiss George for the rest of his life, he would be perfectly content until the day he died. George's hand shifts and joins Sapnap's, fingers laced as he pushes Sapnap's palm until he's pinned to the pillow, eyes shut on impulse and sighing with every warm touch of George's lips, every gentle push to get Sapnap to open up to him, to melt Sapnap with his hands, his tongue, until he's malleable and yielding. It feels like being pulled apart, and Sapnap never wants to stop. 

He arches up into George, parts his lips to let him in and feels more than hears it when George hums against his mouth.

"That's it," George breathes, "perfect. You're perfect."

And something snaps in Sapnap's chest, and pressure builds behind his eyes but he blinks it away, pulls back, turns his face away to breathe, to think, to grab hold of something, anything, some solid point not spinning like his head is. George rises slightly, moves his free hand from Sapnaps hip to cup his jaw, turn Sapnap to face him. It's gentle, and Sapnap could jerk away if he wanted to, but he lets George bring him back in, run his thumb over Sapnap's cheek softly.

"You alright?" he says. 

Sapnap nods, "Yeah," takes a deep, steadying breath, "yeah I'm good, sorry. It's just… a lot." 

George nods, but doesnt look away. 

There is something that passes between them. A silence, and George's hand, steadying and gentle, is warm against his skin. 

Sapnap chews his lip. 

"We can continue," he says, "if you want." 

George watches him blink rapidly, try to regain himself. He opens his mouth, as though to say something, and then stops, looks away, and then back at Sapnap. 

"Y'know," he murmurs, "I think that's enough for today. I want to take things slow. Besides," he grins, but it seems strained, "I already did a number on you." 

George nods downward, rising gently and Sapnap watches George release his hand, rub his outer thigh gently, and smile down at him. 

He feels like he's going to crack in two. 

Sapnap nods.

"Sure," he says, "are you busy today or- um," he wants to ask if he can stay. He can't. 

"No, I'm just… around," George shrugs, "we could do something? If you want? Or just stay here." 

"Yeah! Sure. I'd like that, let me just-" Sapnap shuffles back into a seated position, stumbles off the bed as best he can without kicking George before reaching for his jeans, hands only slightly shaky. 

"Yeah, cool," George nods, "I'm-" he points toward the door, "I'll be back in a bit just," he stammers, "you can head downstairs if you want."

George leaves the room. 

Sapnap hears a door shut somewhere else, and he buttons his fly. He sits on the bed. The window in this room looks out over the small garden, fenced in with slightly overgrown grass where George's dog bounds in leaps and lurches toward branches that sway on the leafless trees. It's quiet in this neighbourhood, and Sapnap can feel himself slowly regaining his stability. The sky is grey, and he watches the clouds, transfixed by gentle movement as he clenches his jaw, tries desperately to keep his breaths even enough to fend off what he knows is coming sooner or later. It looks like it might rain. 

Sapnap stands, takes a deep breath, doesn't rub his eyes, but shuts them, tight, briefly, before heading down the carpeted steps. He opens the sliding glass door to the garden and the dog he's _sure_ George told him the name of makes her way in, claws clacking on tiles. 

He shuts it behind her gently, so as not to make too much noise. 

"Hey," Sapnap says, crouches down so the puppy can sniff his hand, run in circles around him and make joyful little doggy noises, "yeah, hi! Hi puppy!! Hi!" 

Sapnap grins, coos in a baby voice, laughs when the dog (fuck, why can't he remember her name?) hops up on her stubby hind legs, places paws on his knee and says, "Roorooroo," tail wagging with considerable force. 

"Yeah, rooroo," Sapnap chuckles, pats her tiny ears and follows when she takes off, clacking and skittering and running between and around his legs at every opportunity, a streak of tawny golden brown.

She runs into the living room and he picks her up so that she can reach the couch, where she promptly climbs up onto his chest and makes a valiant attempt at licking his ears. 

"Eugh- no, stop," he chuckles, gets a hand below her and places her, gently, back onto the couch cushions, "You stay there. And don't lick me," Sapnap points his finger in her face, which she sniffs.

He rubs her head, which is only slightly bigger than his palm.

"This is embarrassing," he admits, "I can't remember your name." 

The dog's tail whap-whap-whaps against the couch cushions. She doesn't say anything. 

Sapnap stares at her. 

"Can I just call you Puppy?" 

Puppy's tail continues to whap-whap-whap against the couch cushions. 

"I didn't realise she liked you so much," Sapnap turns, and George is at the foot of the stairs, hair fixed after Sapnap had run his hands through it, clothes pristine, "she's usually a bit nervous," he says, strolls toward them and Puppy hops up on her back legs, peers over the back of the couch. 

"She's been friendly with me before," Sapnap murmurs, scratches behind her ear, "maybe she knows we're friends." 

George scoffs. 

"Sure," he says, "or maybe she knew you'd let her up on the couch where she isn't allowed to be." 

"Oh, sorry, I didn't know."

"It's fine," George makes his way around, sits on the opposite end and Puppy sniffs him affectionately, sticks her cold nose into his inner elbow and George makes a face that Sapnap giggles at. 

"Eugh," he says, "slobbery dog."

"Don't listen to him," Sapnap says, pointedly ignoring George and addressing the dog, "you're great." 

  
  


* * *

  
  


They play bedrock, which neither of them have much experience in, and which they are both, all things considered, pretty shit at. 

It has devolved into pvp with stone swords. Sapnap is winning, and George has shrieked loud enough to wake Puppy, on Sapnap's lap, who yaps in response. Eventually George explodes into a pile of items and Sapnap throws his fists in the air, yells his triumph and is licked repeatedly as Puppy decides that festivities are in order, running the short span of the couch back and forth between them on stubby legs, yapping delightedly.

George rolls his eyes, leans back against the couch cushions and sighs, "Scuffed win," he says, resting his hand on the dog who has tired herself out running in circles. 

"Maybe you're just a bitchbaby," Sapnap shrugs, and George turns, eyes wide. 

"Excuse me?" 

"I said what I said." 

"Oh, really?" George's grin has taken on a dangerous edge, "So you don't want a chance to retract that statement then?" 

Sapnap's stomach drops. George might not be big, but there's a sharpness to him, like he can tell where all Sapnap's soft spots are, and as much as Sapnap wants to back down, he can't help but enjoy the feeling of pushing his luck. 

"Why would I take back the truth?" he grins smugly, "Sucks to suck, I'm just better at pvp than you." 

He feels the impact before he sees it, Puppy having been gently removed from the couch while he spoke, and he is shoved, squeaking, onto his back, George grabbing hold of him and poking into his soft sides with sharp fingers. It would've been painful if it wasn't so ticklish. Sapnap's controller clatters to the floor and George takes hold of one of his wrists, gets a thigh either side of his hips and sapnap uses the hand he has free to try to push George's chest back, but he only shifts his weight almost entirely onto the hand, trapping it. 

"Awh," George coos, "that's embarrassing," and cups Sapnap's face with his free hand, squeezes gently as Sapnap tries very hard to glare, "you didn't even struggle!" 

Sapnap grimaces, or attempts to under the force of George's finger and thumb that push his lips out slightly. He'll show George a struggle then, and Sapnap heaves his hips up, eyes widening in horror when his socks lose grip on the couch cushions and he flops back down. 

He has to admit though, the feeling of giving in is almost nice. And the contact between them definitely is, and Sapnap steels himself for the ruthless ribbing he knows is coming. 

George giggles. 

"You're so cute," he says, and it's far less mocking than Sapnap is ready for, more affection than he can handle right now, that awful pressure coming back with a vengeance and George pulls back as he begins to blink, lets go of his jaw. The look on his face almost sets Sap off, far too gentle, far too warm,

"You okay, Sap?" 

"M'fine," he nods, struggling against tears, "dunno what's wrong with me."

George lets him up, but keeps holding onto his wrist, grip shifting, softening, until he holds Sapnap's hand gently. 

"What do you mean?" 

Sapnap shrugs, "It's dumb!" he says, "Because I'm not even sad or anything," his breath hitches, but still he's not going to lose this battle yet, "it just happens wh- if you say nice things to me I just- it's… a lot." 

"Hm," George says, rubs his thumb over the back of Sapnap's hand, which is maybe more affection than they've ever exchanged outside of when George is teaching him, and really, rationally, it shouldn't be anything, given that George had his mouth on Sapnap's thighs under an hour ago, but still, Sapnap's chest squeezes. 

"It's not this bad usually," he mutters, "I can make it stop when it isn't-" 

When it isn't George. 

"When it's not too much? It could have to do with physical contact too," George says, but doesnt let go. 

"Maybe," Sapnap shrugs. 

"Have you considered," George ventures, "that maybe you should just, let it happen?" 

Sapnap frowns, "What?"

"Well, it's normal to cry when you're overwhelmed. I've known a few people who cry during sex."

"Wait, really?"

George nods, "Yeah," and Sapnap is comforted, somewhat, by the flippancy of it, "people feel strongly and have to let that out some way. It's not bad, or wrong, it's- chemical imbalances in your brain sorting themselves out. You're just getting rid of whatever you have too much of in there."

"Oh." 

"Yeah," there is a silence. 

Sapnap feels himself regaining control, and sighs, grins at George only slightly cheekily.

George offers him a smile, before biting his lip, seeming to think deeply for a moment, "...I could," he's hesitant, awkward, "give you a hug, if you'd like?" 

Sapnap laughs, grateful he's been able to reign it in, even if it is normal, and shrugs. 

"Sure," he says, "thanks Georgie," 

"Yeah, um- of course," 

George places a relatively stiff arm around his shoulders, slow like he thinks Sapnap will change his mind, and Sapnap giggles again, pulls George in and revels in the feeling of closeness, loves how he gets to press his face into George's neck, feels George's arms relax around him. 

"Thank you," he says again. 

"Of course," George murmurs, voice soft, "of course."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey gang, rating will probably go up after this sorry djslhf


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy shit yall ty for the comments on ch2 i was very seriously considering giving up writing for a while recently and now i am uh, not gonna do that. anyways have some Soft Georgenap :'3

“So how’d they turn out?”

Sapnap looks at the pink and purple blotches that paint his inner thighs, presses a thumb into one gently, just to feel.

“Yeah,” he says, “they’re nice,” and a huff of laughter comes down the line as George audibly grins.

“Good.”

He leans back on his bed, phone by his head as he considers the ceiling for a moment. 

“I can show you,” he says, a little quieter than he means to, and there is a pause, "if you want."

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says, “gimme a second.”

“Yeah, sure, as long as you need,” George says, almost rushing over his words. Sapnap grins, shakes his head. He picks his phone back up, opens the camera app, looks at himself through it and grimaces. Turning, he shuffles off the bed and toward his mirror, wonders how he’s going to fit his thighs into frame when it’s hung about three feet up the wall, before having an epiphany and just taking it down to rest on the floor. He kneels rather than sits, legs spread, and bunches the legs of his boxers up slightly, to give George a little more to look at, not that he’ll be looking at anything besides the marks anyway. Sapnap is grateful for the way his hoodie drapes a little loose over his hips, hides him. Besides, big hoodies and underwear are cute, right? That’s something people find cute, isn’t it? 

He feels the urge to pull the hem of the hoodie down a little, keeping his hand there just so that it doesn't bunch up, but doesn't for fear of looking like some neckbeard's underage anime girl crush. 

The pictures are… fine. They're fine. Sapnap's face is cropped out, which is probably for the best, and his thighs look too big, but they also show off the marks George left on them, which is what he wants to see. 

"I hate this," he says, getting back up onto the bed, and George laughs on the other end of the line. 

He takes a deep breath, shuts his eyes, presses send. 

There is a hiss of breath in his headphones, and Sapnap waits a moment, eyes still shut and listens as George hums, approvingly, "Oh fuck," he says sounding almost awed, "yeah, those- those are nice."

Sapnap stares at the ceiling, feeling his chest squeeze with pride he doesn't really feel he deserves. 

"You like them?" 

He's grinning now, and George lets out a hiss of breath, "Yeah," he says, voice lower and softer than Sapnap had anticipated, "I really do." 

Sapnap giggles, pokes his finger into one of George's marks, "Well yeah, they're yours, of course you're gonna approve of them." 

"Fuck, Sap," George murmurs, "they're… the marks suit you." 

Sapnap thinks about being marked by George, thinks about George wanting him to be  _ his, _ and shivers. 

"Thank you Georgie," he murmurs, and George mutes for a moment, "George? You good?" 

"Yeah! Sorry-" he says, slightly breathless, "thought there was somebody at the door. There wasn't."

"Oh, okay." 

"Hey, uh," George hesitates, "I'm kind of thinking about- well I was thinking for the next lesson, about something we can do,"

"Mhm?" warmth begins to settle in Sapnap's core, gentle as he lets himself fall into the feeling of listening to George like this, wishes he could hear him lay out everything he plans to do to Sapnap in explicit detail, to record it and play it on loop, keep it somewhere to listen to late into the night when imagination just doesn't cut it anymore. 

"I want to take things as slow as we can," he says, "you don't have to take off any clothes you don't feel comfortable without either." 

Sapnap's chest squeezes, "Thank you," he says, almost hoping George can hear the affection in it, the relief. 

"Of course," George sounds almost upset Sapnap had even considered the contrary, "you never have to do anything you don't want to. Not with me. Well- not with anyone, don't let people cross your boundaries- but especially not with me."

Sapnap sighs, feels as though George has just wrapped warm arms around him, "I know," he says, "but… thanks, still." 

"Yeah," George says, gently, "this is… I mean this for you, Sapnap, this is yours. And- and as much as I'm having fun, and, trust me, I am, this isn't about me, and I don't ever want to cost you your comfort, or your enjoyment," Sapnap wants to interject, but, "I also wanted to ask, I know you're not okay with taking your shirt off for now, but how does that extend to touch, can I-" George huffs a self deprecating laugh, "Sapnap, may I put my hands up your shirt?" 

He asks like Sapnap is the teacher in the equation, and Sapnap giggles. 

"Yeah," he says, "I think that's fine." 

"Perfect," George's smile is audible, "thank you." 

* * *

"There are," George states, "very few ways to mess this up." 

Sapnap sits across from him on the couch, can't help but remember the last time he was here, then the time before. 

"Where's uh…" he gestures vaguely at the floor. 

"The dog? I put her out," George shrugs, "I wanted to use downstairs and um, didn't really want company."

Sapnap nods, "Anyways, you were saying?"

"Yes. Right- um," George smiles at him, comforting in a way that Sapnap isn't quite used to, "this is going to be really easy, because we've basically already done it. Last time, when I had you on the bed, you pressed up into me and-" George's grin widens, "that was great, and I figured, there's something we could do that doesn't require you to either take your clothes off or wear a skirt." 

"Oh! Just like-" 

"Yeah exactly. All I need you to do is get into your underwear like last time and come sit," George gestures to the shut blinds, "nobody's gonna see. Don't worry." 

George is different today, Sapnap thinks. He seems almost giddy, and it's contagious. Sapnap grins at him, feels the tension in his bones melt away as he undoes his fly, shoes having been left at the door, and George courteously makes a show of not watching him strip, which Sapnap giggles at.

"You've seen me like this before," he says, and George shrugs.

"I know," he says, "now just," he gestures Sapnap forward, and George is in sweatpants, but he tugs his shirt off, chest pale and thin, but more wiry than skinny, like a dancer. 

"Where do you want me?" Sapnap asks, feels his face begin to warm as he looks anywhere but George. 

George pats his own thigh, "Right here," he says, before nodding to his discarded shirt, "I um- I didn't want you to be the only one showing some skin," and he reaches a hand forward brushes his fingers along Sapnap's thigh, raising goosebumps. 

"Thanks," Sapnap says. 

"You really do look good like that, you know," George murmurs, eyes trained on the patchwork of hickeys he'd left behind, and Sapnap swallows, feels his muscles clench slightly and a shiver run up his spine. 

"Um," he says, finally coming to rest in George's lap, where George places a hand either side of his thighs, "I wanted to tell you," Sapnap can't meet his eye, "I think I changed my mind about you uh… leaving marks on my neck." 

George's fingers press in slightly, like he doesn't know he's doing it, "Oh?" he says, and Sapnap nods. 

"It's just," he falters, "The one from before, the first one, it's faded now and um… I dunno I guess I miss it?" 

George's lips part slightly, and then he smiles. 

"I'm glad you told me," he says, "I can give you some today if you like?" 

Sapnap blinks, nods, stops himself, and then nods again, a little less eagerly. George grins wide, "You are something else, y'know that?" 

Sapnap laughs gently, looks away, "Shut up," he says. 

"No problem," George says, "c'mere," and pulls Sapnap in by the hips, presses up to kiss him gently, before pulling back, "I can think of much better things to do with my mouth," and Sapnap laughs. 

Sapnap's boxer briefs are plain, black and boring, but George seems to find them fascinating. He runs his thumbs along the end of the legs, along the sensitive skin of Sapnap's thighs, pushes the fabric back to pull at him, press fingertips into the soft give of his hips, his ass, and Sapnap sighs into his lips, lets himself be pulled. George kisses the corner of his lips, and as Sapnap goes to reconnect them, trails down, nips gently at his jaw, presses his lips beneath it, along Sapnap's throat, moving down with soft lips and warm, sticky breaths. Sapnap raises his arms, lays a hand against George's chest and hooks the other round his shoulders, feels George smile into his skin before pressing his tongue, broad and hot, over his pulse point, pausing to press open mouthed kisses there between gentle nips, and Sapnap feels himself pulled in closer, feels the curling, coiling heat in the core of him build again and can't help but hum gently, knowing that today he'll actually get to do something about it rather than wait until he gets home. 

George answers with a low moan that he feels against his throat, before shifting his grip on Sapnap's hips to finally, finally press them together, and Sapnap feels George up against him, shudders against his hands, his mouth, the pressure between his hips. 

This is for him.

This is his.

Sapnap takes a deep breath, falls a little further into George, and gently, experimentally, rolls his hips. 

"Fuck," George groans into his neck, bites down a little more harshly and Sap gasps, hips twitching. George presses up to meet him, and the friction, the warmth, the sharp pull of George's teeth, Sapnap wants to beg him for more. And, he thinks, if all this really is for him, he can try, can't he? 

Sapnap struggles to find his words, his voice, feels the press of George's thumbs into his hips and whines, "Please," into George's ear. 

George moans. His hand rises from Sapnap's hip to his hair, tangling in the dark waves at the nape of his neck and tugging gently so that Sapnap tilts his head back, knowing what George wants somehow even without having to be told. George drags his lips, his teeth, up along Sapnap's throat before letting him lower his head back down and pulling him into a kiss, deep and slightly messy, licks into Sapnap's mouth while he sighs, wants to suck on George's tongue. 

He wants George everywhere. Sapnap lets his hand move down George's chest, brushes his nipple almost accidentally and George moans into his mouth, sucks Sapnap's lip between his and gently bites down before grabbing hold of his hips again and grinding him down, guided and pulled, like Sapnap has absolutely no say in the matter, and Sapnap whines at the feeling, wishes he could spread his thighs further, wishes he could feel the way George would press, hot and damp, into his skin, wishes he could take all his clothes off and lick everywhere George would let him. 

George pulls back and lets Sapnap pant against him, pulls him into two more wet, searching kisses before pressing his lips to Sapnap's ear and rumbling "Come on baby, take what you want," he nips his earlobe and Sapnap jerks against him, "yes, good boy, just like that, whatever pace you like."

Sapnap whines and presses his hips forward, grinds against George and listens to him hum approvingly, slightly breathless and voice like honey, hot against his skin, "Perfect, you're a natural. Made for this." 

Sapnap draws a shaky breath, feels George's hands move to cup his ass, pull them close, "That's it, darling, move for me, look how well you're doing." 

Sapnap lets his head drop toward George's shoulder, murmurs, "Georgie please," and feels George's grip on him tighten, fingers digging in gently.

George hums, draws him in and pushes him down in tandem with the stuttering rhythm Sapnap tries to set, making Sapnap shudder as his thighs clench of their own accord.

"More, Sap?" 

Sapnap whines, "I can't, I won't last, I-" 

"Then don't," George brings a hand up to push Sapnap's hair back, presses a kiss just below his ear, "just let it happen, it's okay," he pulls Sapnap in again, and Sapnap can feel the damp spot in the front of his boxer briefs pull, shift against his thigh, "it's your first time with anybody helping you out, you're new at this, it's okay. Let it feel good. You feel good, baby?" 

Sapnap's jaw drops as George pushes up against him, sighs into the bare skin of George's shoulder and moans, "Yes," 

"Good, that's all I want. I want you to feel good. You come whenever you need to, and if it's too much to let me keep going, I can always just turn you around and get to grind up into your pretty ass." 

Sapnap finds it within himself to pant out a "George!" 

"It's true! It's very pretty," George argues, slides his hand down to make pressing up into his tummy easier for Sapnap, "I can't wait to fuck you," he growls, directly into Sapnap's ear, and Sapnap cries out, presses himself as hard as he can, hips stuttering, "can't wait to make you moan, gonna sound so pretty when you come on my cock-" and Sapnap is gone. He gasps, fucks forward and George presses him in, licks and kisses his neck as Sapnap mouths at his shoulder, twitches and pants as his thighs and stomach clench and he pushes, wet, into George's skin as George runs a hand up under his shirt.

"That's it darling, good boy, that's it. So good for me," and Sapnap moans, too caught up to be embarrassed at the drool he leaves on George's skin as he pulls back, breathless, sits back against George, still hot and hard, and George smiles at him. Sapnap can't say anything, smiles back, dazed, as George pushes forward, drags him into a kiss that only melts Sapnap more as George slowly rocks his hips up against him, pushes Sapnap through the aftershocks. Sapnap wraps his arms around George's shoulders, pushes a hand up into his hair as he breathes, shakily. 

"You want me to turn us around?" George hums into his ear, and Sapnap shakes his head, clings tighter as his thighs twitch, over and over, to the slow, steady roll of George's hips as George licks gentle, punched-out whines from his lips. 

"No," Sapnap breathes, "no, no, stay."

It's too much. It's not enough. He wants George to do this forever, wants to feel this good forever. 

George sighs, "Anything," and kisses Sapnap, "anything you want." 

Sapnap pulls himself in closer, rolls his hips down and George moans into his mouth. It's perfect. Sapnap would sell his soul for that sound. 

"Georgie?" he murmurs, finally finding his voice, "let me-" George kisses him again and he smiles against his lips, nods down toward the couch and leans, pulls, "-like before," and lies down, George shifting between his legs and Sapnap pulls him into another kiss. 

George catches on quick, shifts a hand to press one of Sapnap's thighs back, leans on the other to look down at him as he ruts down into Sapnap. It isn't nearly as overwhelming now, but Sapnap stares up at George, haloed above him and dark eyes glassy as his jaw drops slightly, and Sapnap pulls him down, catches his lips as his hips stutter. 

“Fuck, Sap,” George groans, and Sapnap, thoughtless to the point of bravery, hums back.

"Please," he whines, "c'mon Georgie," and drags his blunt fingernails up George's back, not harshly, just enough to make him shudder and the steady rhythm of his hips turn briefly to something mindless, rushed and harsh as George lets his head drop onto Sapnap's chest, ruts down hard enough to move Sapnap up the couch once, twice, three times, and then holds himself there, pants against Sapnap's chest and Sapnap wishes he'd taken his shirt off, wishes he could feel George's hot breath on his skin. George rocks into him slow and gentle and Sapnap's hands come back up into his hair, play with the strands and George hums into his shirt, lets himself fall lax on top of him, presses his face into Sapnap's neck, kisses just beneath his jaw, along his throat, down to his collarbone, idle and slow, and Sapnap turns his head, tilts his jaw slightly so that George can reach better. 

George rests his hand on Sapnap's chest, just over his heart, and the weight of him is perfect, warm and gentle, smelling of sweat and sex and George, and it's maybe the most comfortable Sapnap has ever been. He hooks a leg around George's, shuts his eyes. George's lips find his own, and it's bliss.

They lie there, together, and Sapnap traces patterns on the smooth, pale skin of George's back, George having tucked his face back in against Sapnap's neck, occasionally pressing his lips against him, gentle, and breathing deep enough to tickle when he exhales. 

They're pressed together still, so it takes more than a few minutes for the combination of cold air and damp to cause discomfort, but soon enough Sapnap shifts his hips, feels the cool, wet fabric stick to him, and grimaces.

"Eugh," he breathes, and George huffs a laugh into the crook of his neck, "You can have a shower here if you want," he says, "And don't worry about clothes. I've got stuff." 

Sapnap grins, "I don't think yours would fit me," he says, but George just pokes his side softly and he giggles. 

"Just get cleaned up," George murmurs, pulling away from Sapnap to rise, disentangling their legs before slipping from the couch, "I'll worry about what you're wearing home." 

George offers him a hand up, and Sapnap takes it, feels himself pulled, rather impressively, up onto legs that wobble slightly, and he takes George's shoulder, steadying himself. 

There is a moment when they look at one another, George with one of Sapnap's hands in his own and the other on his shoulder, and Sapnap wants George to kiss him. Wants it so badly he could scream, but that's not what this is about. That's not what this is for, so he smiles, releases George's hand, stretches. 

"Where's your towels, dude?"

"Uh, there's a cupboard in the upstairs bathroom," George says, "I'll leave the clothes by the door for you. I'm just gonna let the dog in." 

Sapnap nods, meanders upstairs slowly, still comfortably dazed. It's different to doing it himself, he thinks. The feeling lasts longer. There's a warmth in his chest that doesn't seem to want to go away, and he keeps seeing George's face, when he was looking down at him, outlined in light streaming in the kitchen window behind him. 

That same warm winter afternoon light spills, golden, over the linoleum of the bathroom floor as Sapnap crests the top of the staircase. George's bathroom is, as everything else in the house, warm toned and clean, with a bathtub that's deep instead of long, and a showerhead mounted above it, a few half-empty bottles lined up along the edge, brightly coloured and labels peeling. Sapnap retrieves a towel from the cupboard, fluffy and white and far nicer than anything he's got at the dorm, closes the lid of the toilet and lays it down on top before shutting, and locking the door and setting himself down on the rim of the bath. He pulls his shirt, slightly sticky with sweat, up and over his shoulders, and throws it, along with his boxers, onto the floor. He'll put them in a bag probably, wash them when he gets home. The shower has no knobs to turn, no taps to twist, no buttons or dials or anything. It's just… up there. Sapnap blinks at it, scratches the thin patch of hair on his chest idly. 

He spends a good five seconds examining it before realising there must be a way to use the taps for the bath to make the shower work. Ah, there it is. A little lever almost, that pulls from right to left, and then sapnap can pull the bath tap up, immediately jerks back as the freezing water hits his outstretched arm, pulling the shower curtain shut to avoid splashing the floor. 

Soon, steam begins to curl from the top of the shower curtain, and Sapnap pulls it back, steps into the wonderful, cradling warmth. Hot water cascades down his shoulders, his chest, his legs, and he turns,tilts his head back and feels his hair pulled back, weighed down by water that falls against his shoulders and back, melts his muscles, and Sapnap takes a deep breath, sighs. George's shower gel is the expensive kind, the waste of money kind that Sapnap walks right by in the supermarket, smells of something spicy, warm and welcoming in ways that Sapnap realises he'd always associated with George. The shampoo is of a similar price range, something rich and coconutty, and Sapnap wonders if it has anything to do with why George's hair is always beautiful, shiny and clean and soft. He works his own hair into foamy, sweet-smelling bubbles, is halfway through a chorus before he realises he's been singing, quietly, immediately shuts up rather than annoy George with it, and begins to wash the sweat and stickiness from his body. There's a small stack of washcloths on a shelf at the end of the bathtub, and Sapnap takes one to lather shower gel up on, scrub himself clean. His new marks have that gentle ache he's grown to love when he runs the cloth over them, and Sapnap rinses his hair out, runs his fingers through the strands, ignoring the bottle of conditioner in favour of brevity, he squeezes some of the water from the strands, turns the water off. Sapnap steps down onto the mat, catches a glimpse of himself in the slightly foggy mirror over the sink, the purpling marks along his neck, the fading ones on his thighs. He blinks, and for a moment his body is just his body rather than something to be disgusted by, and the novelty of it is shocking. He makes a face before reaching out for the towel, the water on his skin cooling uncomfortably. 

He towel dries his hair, reminds himself to ask George about a brush when he sees him, before rubbing at his chest and shoulders, and then wrapping the towel around his waist. He unlocks the door. Outside there is a small stack of clothes, and Sapnap calls "Thank you!" before taking them, not getting a reply. There's a shirt, plain, white, and grey sweatpants, along with clean underwear and socks. He didn't need half of it, but the idea of entirely fresh clothes after a shower is too tempting to decline. Sapnap rummages around in the set of drawers by the sink, under spare toothbrushes and little cardboard boxes of hand-soap, there is a can of deodorant, unopened. 

Sapnap dresses, rubs his hair down again for good measure. The clothes are soft, the inside of the sweatpants fluffy in the way that only new ones are, and when Sapnap gets back downstairs, George is sitting at the kitchen counter. 

"Why do you have clothes that fit me?" 

"Hm?" George looks up at him, "Oh, uh. I- got the wrong size." 

"An entire outfit?"

"Yeah." 

"... Okay," Sapnap doesn't push. 

There is a pause. 

"Alright, I bought them," George says, shrugs, "I figured you'd probably need something like it at some point because of what we were doing, and I didn't want you to have to go home in dirty clothes-" 

"-Let me pay you back then."

"No, it's fine. They can be for when you're here or something it's fine."

"When I'm here?"

George looks at him, "When you stay over," he says, "if you want to."

Sapnap blinks. 

"Oh. Yeah, sure, definitely. Yeah." 

Something seems to melt in George, and he nods, "Okay, cool. Not today, but, y'know. Soon." 

Sapnap nods. George wants him to stay. George wants him to stay  _ overnight. _ He wants to thank him, to ask when George wants him over, because he can make time, but instead what comes out is, "Do you have a hairbrush? I wanna untangle this before it dries." 

"Yeah, no problem," George says, "it's upstairs. Was uh… was the shower okay?" 

"Yeah! Yeah, pretty good." 

"Cool." 

"Cool." 

Neither of them are looking at each other. Sapnap stares past George, out the kitchen window, and George looks down at the countertop, before standing, brushing past Sapnap to get to the stairs, "C'mon, I'll get you the brush," he says. 

Puppy sits at the bottom of the stairs. 

"Hey," Sapnap smiles, and she rises to yap at him, jumps up and almost reaches his knee, "yeah I missed you too," he says, lowers himself down to lift Puppy, wriggling, up into his arms. She licks his chin.

George eyes him, "Are you taking the dog upstairs?" 

"Sure," Sapnap shrugs, "she looked like she wanted to go up." 

"She can't, her legs are too short," George says, voice warm as he gives Puppy a grin, pats her head gently. 

Sapnap sits on George's bed, places Puppy down beside him and George hands him a brush. 

"If she pees up here,  _ you're _ cleaning it," he says, "I'm gonna have a shower." 

Sapnap smiles after him, grabs the end of a segment of his hair in one hand, starts brushing. 

"We'll wait for you here," he calls, and George shakes his head. 

"I'm beginning to think you're determined to bring my dog everywhere she's not supposed to go." 

Sapnap turns to puppy, who is rolling on George's bedsheets and looks up at him, tongue lolling,

"He's onto us," he hisses, and George laughs. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey y'all its been a long time coming again :'3 finals kicked my adhd ass ksjdfhsk  
> also just to let u know my twitter is @Qquangular or @Quinqafterdark for nsfw. i post art there!   
> anyways, this one's pretty soft, pretty plotty, i hope u like it

Sapnap leaves the clothes back at George's when they're clean. He takes one of those bags you get with nice shoes rather than a backpack he’ll miss, stuffed into the back of his closet, and packs the clothes George bought, along with another shirt, a couple more pairs of underwear, and socks, cinching the little string at the top. Something squeezes, warm, in his chest, gentle and tentative. 

George wants him to stay overnight. He wants to stay with George overnight. Well, he wants to stay with George forever, but that's hardly an option. Even still, he smiles as he throws the bag into the passenger seat of his car, and thinks about it. Thinks about carving a little space out for himself in George's life. Nothing too obtrusive, an extra toothbrush in the bathroom, a hair-tie on the bedside table George has no use for but leaves where it is. The warmth in Sapnap's chest spreads, and he takes a hand off the wheel to press his thumb against the delicate lilac mark at his neck, back again. George's mark on him, his claim. 

The road gleams orange with rain and streetlights, on early to fend off the creeping winter dark, and Sapnap's hand returns to the wheel. He rolls his shoulders against the cold, lets out a breath. There's no lesson today. They're just meeting, as friends. It feels nice, to know George still wants to spend time with him despite how often they've been meeting. 

Sapnap had asked him to explain one of his coding assignments. 

"Just come over," George had said, "we can go through it."

Sapnap's laptop lies under the passenger seat, and he wonders if, after they've worked through the question he has genuinely no understanding of, they could start a little LAN world together, dick around and try to race to the end or something. He wonders if George would think that was stupid, decides not to ask. 

When he pulls in outside the driveway and leaves the car, the air is thick and damp with an impending storm. The sky bruises the same shade as he does, deep mauve like the insides of his thighs. He rings the bell, knows George will be there soon when he hears Puppy start to yap excitedly on the opposite side of the door. 

"Hi!" he calls, knowing she can hear him. 

George smiles at him when the door opens, and Sapnap is smiling back before he has time to think, to say anything. 

Puppy spins in tight circles, roorooroo-ing at the ceiling. 

"Hey," George says. 

"Hi."

If George were his, this would be the part where Sapnap would reach a hand up to touch his cheek, lean across the distance between them and kiss him. As it stands, though, he offers George the bag, mumbles, "Brought the clothes back." George takes it, lays it down on the bottom stair. Puppy sniffs the bag, before returning to Sapnap's shoes, and he bends, scoops her up and feels her tail thwap against his side as he tucks her under his arm.

George rolls his eyes, "Sometimes I think you only visit for the dog."

"You're right," Sapnap says, "she's my new best friend." 

"Oh, great, so she can help you with your assignment then?" 

Sapnap giggles, "George," he whines, exaggeratedly, "be nice to me!" 

George scoffs, "I am nice! Now go sit and set your stuff up, I'm taking your clothes upstairs."

Sapnap makes a face at Puppy, mimics, "I  _ am _ nice," in an accent that resembles nothing even close to George's.

"I can hear you," George calls, and Sapnap snickers, puts Puppy down to head inside. Sitting on George's couch again makes his guts twist briefly, and he puts his laptop bag down on the coffee table, pulls up his assignment. Puppy sniffs the edge of the couch, pads back and forth, so Sapnap picks her up and places her on the floor. 

"So," George flops down beside him with a huff, "what're we looking at?" 

Sapnap shakes his head, shrugs.

"I swear I went to class," he says, "but this is… nobody taught me this shit." 

"Do you have the textbook with you?" 

"...I have a scan of like, the first three chapters. Who buys textbooks?"

"I did."

"Nerd." 

"You better stop making fun of me or you're on your own with this," George murmurs, staring at the screen. 

"You wouldn't," Sapnap replies, voice lowered to match George's , and he leans forward, rests his chin in his hand and looks from George to the screen, wonders what George is thinking as he reads. 

"Stop looking at me," George says, eyes still on the question.

"Sorry," Sapnap leans back, clasps his hands together in his lap, and wishes he'd kept the dog from wandering off. 

George sits up a little straighter, turns to him. 

"This isn't too bad," he says, "it's really just the way it's phrased that's tricky. It's um…" he falters, "y'know what? Why don't I just show you," and pulls Sapnap's laptop up onto his legs, nods for Sapnap to lean in. 

"Okay," he says, "so-" 

* * *

  
  


George's shoulder is only slightly uncomfortable under Sapnap's temple as he leans in over the screen. George has been typing for over an hour now, and Sapnap has decided to leave him to it, letting him explain as he goes. Puppy has climbed up into his lap and fallen asleep, snuffling gently into the crease of his elbow, tiny nose cold and damp. 

George, Sapnap finds, is easy to learn from. His voice is gentle when he doesn't feel like he has to entertain anyone, and listening to him sets something in Sapnap at ease, warm as he shifts, hooks his chin over George's shoulder. 

"-Do you get it, or do you want me to go over it again?" 

"I… think I get it," Sapnap murmurs, blinks at the lines of code he can now interpret. 

"It's okay if you don't, we have all day," George says, Sapnap is tempted to ask him to explain again just so that George will keep talking, but he shakes his head.

"I'm pretty sure I understand it. Thank you, though," 

"Of course." 

"Do um- now that I know what to do, d'you wanna set up a LAN world and fuck around?" Sapnap shrugs, leans on the comfort he feels here, "I dunno maybe do a couple speedruns? Race to the end or something." 

"Sure, sounds fun," George nods, "you want a mouse or are you okay with the trackpad?" 

And that… was surprisingly easy. Sapnap grins, "Yeah! Um- can I borrow a mouse actually?" 

George nods, "I'm still gonna absolutely destroy you though I hope you know," 

"May the best man win," Sapnap puffs out his chest, and George bursts into giggles,

"Yeah, I will, thanks." 

"Dude!!" 

"Shut up, let me get you your mouse. It's my old one but it's fine, the cord was just short." 

"Cool, I'll sit in your office, it'll be easier to talk." 

Since he's had the house, George's setup has been moved into a small office just inside the front door. There's an armchair there too, but only because George got it cheap and then didn't know where to put it. 

Puppy trots in behind them, click-clacks on the wood over to the little dog bed nestled in the corner of George's desk and the wall, curls in on herself like she's been here the entire time. 

"It's getting dark," George remarks, watches the bruise coloured sky, lit up orange in the haze of streetlights, rain making the asphalt shine amber.

"Yeah," Sapnap plugs his laptop in, shoves the armchair over to the corner of George's desk, mostly clear with the exception of a single half-empty coffee mug, obviously fresh, "you wanna get food?" 

George nods as thunder rolls, "Pizza? I don't really want to go out in that, I'll be honest,"

Sapnap giggles, "Yeah, let some other poor asshole go instead."

"Oh fuck off," George rolls his eyes, "you want to watch me kill the ender dragon or what?"

"Oh we'll see about that," 

"Sapnap, that doesn't make- y'know what yeah we'll see about you wanting to watch me kill the ender dragon." 

"Wait- shit, I meant-" 

"I know what you meant. Go start up while I order this, I'll even let you get a headstart," 

"Wow, thanks,"

"Yeah, I'm benevolent like that." 

George plays like he usually does, loudly, using a lot of food, and occasionally pausing to attempt to kill Sapnap when he gets ahead, and it's nice. They rarely get to do anything just the two of them, and Sapnap points out as much, to which George laughs, "What, you miss me, Pandas? Wanna go on a minecraft date?" 

Sapnap grins, smacks the enderman in his boat with an axe as George is pursued by at least three skeletons. 

"Dude, we should get minecraft married and have the wedding actually work, and Fundy can be my best man just to fuck with him,"

George gets shot, swears, kills a skeleton. 

"Aren't you already minecraft married?"

"What?" 

"To Karl and like, Alex, right? You guys are minecraft married,"

"We are? Oh shit, we are!" 

George shakes his head exaggeratedly, 

"Turning me into a minecraft homewrecker again Sap, please, my reputation." 

George manages to escape the skeletons, gets a crit in on Sapnap before he can raise his shield and crows victoriously as Sapnap yells, does his best to run. He ends up using the pearl to teleport away, shaking his head as he eats to regenerate. Normally he’d just turn around and fight, but George got to a blacksmith before him, and has a diamond axe. 

"C'mere, Sapnap," George singsongs, and Sapnap giggles.

"What is this, manhunt?" 

"I could absolutely beat you at manhunt," George states, and Sapnap makes a face.

"I dunno," he says, "I'm pretty sweaty at this shit by now," 

"You're  _ sweaty _ all the time. Comes with being a minecraft youtuber under the age of twenty three,"

"Shut up." 

"Am I wrong?" 

"I get nervous!"

"About  _ minecraft?" _

George chases him through the birch forest, and Sapnap wishes he could see a way up onto the treetops, all of a sudden understands that one clip of Dream trying to make a cobble crafting table with unnerving clarity. 

"Leave me alone!" he yells, voice cracking as George cackles, and he's so grateful for the soundproofing in this room. 

George shrieks,  _ "Oh, Sapnap!!" _ and Sapnap squawks, throws down a water bucket in hopes that it'll slow George down, dives headfirst into a lake like he's seen dream do a hundred times over, hears the snapping crack as George gets another hit in, catches a glimpse of a dolphin just down the shoreline, and then it's dark. 

The light in George's office has gone out. Sapnap's laptop helpfully informs him he's gone offline. 

"What?" 

"Wait, what? No! I was gonna get you! You little bitch!" 

"George, all the- I don't think that was me,"

George looks up, realises his office is dark, and squints. 

"Huh," he says, "well that's not right." 

Sapnap giggles, "Maybe it's a blown fuse?" 

George arches his back, cracking it loudly, arms wrapped back around his headrest, before standing and stating, "Looks more like a power cut. The whole street's dark." 

"Oh shit," Sapnap murmurs. 

"S'fine," George shrugs, "just means I don't have to go out in this weather to fix it." 

A car pulls up outside the house, and a haggard looking man pulls a jacket over his head, jogs up to the door and rings the bell. 

"Food's here," George says, and Sapnap giggles. 

"You think?" 

The doorbell rings. 

Pizza is good, even in the dark. George tips the delivery guy more than the pizza was worth and thanks him, before wandering into the living room with the box. 

"Come in here, Sap, I think I have- yeah I do, nice." 

Sapnap follows, relying on his phone's light before George strikes a match, lights what looks like a cardboard package in the fireplace he's never seen used. 

The package lights up almost immediately, flooding the room with a bright orange glow. 

"I bought a couple of firelogs and stuff for Christmas," George says, "I'm pretty sure I have candles too, but that can wait cause I'm hungry and this is still warm." 

Sapnap laughs incredulously, watches George sit crosslegged in front of the fire, drag the pizza box down with him. 

"C'mere," he says, "the heating's electric so it's about to be cold." 

Sapnap does as he's told, commandeers a couch cushion, and an extra one for George, sits next to him. 

George connects to a bluetooth speaker, turns on some spotify playlist, murmurs something about data, and opens the box.

George's half of the pizza has jalepeños and pepperoni, and he sneers at Sapnap's ham and pineapple in disgust. 

"That's a crime," he says, "you're going to jail." 

Sapnap waves his hands indignantly, 

"It's good! Leave me alone!" 

"You should go to jail and then from jail directly to hell. Between this and the bloody-  _ melon drink _ -" 

"Carbonated melon milk-" 

"Awful. Either way, disgusting." 

"You're just uncultured," 

"Did you mean to say I have tastebuds?" 

Sapnap shakes his head, takes a bite, "At least I don't put fucking broccoli on mine," he mumbles, and George retches loudly. 

"Yeah you're right. There are worse things than pineapple I suppose." 

"I knew a guy who put tuna on pizza. Like canned tuna-" 

_ "What?!" _

"Yeah!!" 

The fire crackles noisily, and Sapnap jumps. George giggles at him, and Sapnap remembers the drinks that came with the pizza, reaches back toward the coffee table for the two cans, hands one to George. 

They eat in silence for a while, and George squints into the fire. 

"Hey," he says, "you don't have to go home after this if you don't want to." 

"Hm?" 

"I mean," George shrugs, shoves a crust around the box, "you could just stay here. If the whole area's down your dorm won't have power either, might as well be somewhere warm. And- I dunno we could, maybe, we could make a lesson out of it? Only if you want." 

Sapnap thinks about the rain. He thinks about his cold dorm, about the fact that his glasses are in his laptop bag, and the clothes upstairs. He considers George for a moment, lit up all along his side, dark hair auburn in the glow. 

"Yeah," he nods, "yeah I'd like that." 

George smiles slowly, perhaps more softly than Sapnap has ever seen, before blinking and grinning wide, "I'm not kissing you until after you brush your teeth though."

"Pineapple is good!!" 

"Cursed! Cursed shit! Next you're gonna tell me you dip chicken nuggets in mayonnaise!" 

"Ew," 

"Exactly!" 

Sapnap giggles, turns back to the flames. He's always been fascinated by fire. It wasn't always a minecraft thing, it just sort of… carried over. George, a pizza box's distance away from him, watches too, and Sapnap considers moving the box, considers shuffling closer, leaning on George's shoulder like he did earlier. Instead he draws his knees up toward his chest, tilts his head to watch the embers in the grate extinguish, flicker out. 

"George?" 

"Mm?" 

"Do you have any marshmallows?" 

"I…" George squints momentarily, "might, actually. Let me look," and rises with a soft grunt, taking the box with him and depositing it on the fire before shuffling out toward the kitchen. 

"Do you need your phone?" 

"Oh! Yeah probably. I just tried to turn the light on," George laughs. Sapnap grins, shakes his head, turns the light on George's phone on and finds him squinting into the dark. 

"Hey." 

George turns, smiles, "Hey," and makes his way to a cupboard, "I  _ think _ there might be- yeah! Here," he tosses a mostly full bag to Sapnap, sealed at the top with one of those clip thingies his mom has. 

"Pog," Sapnap says, and then feels stupid about it, makes a face as George snickers.

"You want uh… actually I don't think I have much else. I bought those for hot chocolate," he shrugs. 

"Well we're gonna need like, skewers or long sticks or something," 

"What, you're not gonna hold your hand directly over the fire? Pussy." 

Sapnap rolls his eyes, and George hands him a fork. 

"Really?"

"It's what I've got, take it or leave it." 

"If these melt, will you kill me?" 

"Depends on how good the marshmallows are." 

* * *

The fire has died down to near nothing, and the marshmallow bag is almost empty, and although one fork now has a noticeably warped handle, Sapnap lies with his head on George's thigh, staring at the crumbling remains of glow while George cards gentle fingers through his hair, careful not to catch in the long strands gathered up into a loose bun. Sapnap could stay like this, he thinks. He could live in fading warmth with George's nails gently grazing his head, listening to George's playlist loop. If not for his eyes starting to itch, he would have, but as it stands, he pushes himself upright. 

"I gotta take my contacts out," he murmurs. 

"You wear contacts?" 

"Mhm." 

"I didn't know," George says, sounds almost indignant. 

"Yeah I never told you," Sapnap grins, "that's how that works."

He grabs his glasses case, his phone, steps over Puppy just below the stairs, stopping to rub his thumb over the top of her tiny fluffy head. 

The bathroom looks different under his phone light and Sapnap washes his hands, takes his contacts out, feels that familiar dizziness of replacing them with his glasses, takes a second to get used to the frames again before heading back downstairs. 

George has placed something else on the fire, pieces of wood it looks like, and turns when he hears steps on the stairs. 

"Oh," he says, and Sapnap laughs, feels his stomach twist slightly, but sits back down anyway, closer enough to touch, "Is it- are they better?" 

"Yeah, contacts get like, itchy," Sapnap shrugs, smiles when George nods sagely. 

"They suit you," he says. 

Sapnap snorts, rolls his eyes, feels warm all the same. 

"So, what'd you have in mind for the uh… lesson?" 

"Right! Yeah, I mean I was just thinking-" George makes a gesture between his legs, and Sapnap bursts into giggles. 

"I mean, I  _ know _ how to do that, but sure." 

"Just cause we didn't plan it, y'know? I don't want to do anything too new on short notice."

"You plan them?" 

George nods, "C'mon Sap, I'm not gonna have this be some casual thing, i've gotta make sure it's at least good."

"I dunno if I'd have been able to tell,"

"But now you'll at least have a standard for when you do this shit." 

Sapnap snorts, "Gonna turn me into a connoisseur? Acquire me some tastes?" 

"Ruin you for anybody worse, hopefully," George says, and Sapnap feels his chest squeeze. 

"Anybody worse, huh?" 

"Can't have you going around having mediocre sex and not knowing you could have it better. You're worth more than that." 

Oh. 

Sapnap giggles, "Thank you," and hopes he doesn't sound as soft as he feels. 

He must give something away, because George's voice is gentle when he murmurs, "Of course." 

He's different in this light, the long shadows of his eyelashes dark along his cheekbones, ever so slightly golden, and Sapnap wants to reach out and touch him, feel the warmth that seems to radiate from his skin. 

"George," Sapnap breathes.

"Hm?"

"Kiss me?" 

"Now?" 

"Yeah." 

George's lips are warmer on the side turned toward the fire, and Sapnap raises his hand, cups a jaw that seems to burn all on its own as George nips his lip tentatively, asking for permission he already knows Sapnap will give. 

George lets his hand rest on Sapnap's thigh, and Sapnap parts his lips.

And this. This is all of it. Everything. 

Sapnap feels himself fall inward, the pulling, folding pressure in his chest like a hand laid down on spun sugar, on thin sheets of ice, the crumbling, the wavebreak, the overflow, the bubbling up of it all. He had wondered, after the first time, if every kiss felt this way with George. He wondered if the feeling of being completely enveloped, beckoned in and pressed down and gently pulled apart would go away when he got used to it. 

It hasn't. 

When George pulls away, it takes him a moment to open his eyes. Firelight flickers on his damp lower lip and Sapnap watches it, shifts his hand back slightly, lets his thumb brush the reflection before George places his own hand over Sapnap's, turns to kiss his palm. 

"We should go upstairs," he says, and Sapnap blinks, nods dumbly, and rises, pulls George into the dark hallway and up the stairs, tugged back down into gentle kisses occasionally as George holds on. 

George pulls him in as they reach the top of the stairs, walks him backward, teetering, toward his bedroom, arms around his waist. 

Sapnap flops back onto George's bed with a gentle huff, hears George giggle in the dark. There's very little to see, and Sapnap feels his way up to George's shoulders as he crawls up onto the bed with hushed laughter and gentle hands. 

"Where are you?" he murmurs, smiling, and George leans down, kisses the corner of his mouth before shifting to his lips, having found them. 

"Right here," he says, and Sapnap can feel him grin. 

George leans back and Sapnap hears the rustling of fabric, and when he reaches back up to George's shoulders his palms brush bare skin. Sapnap hums, lets his hand shift along the smooth softness of him, hears George sigh in return. George's hands shift toward his hips as he presses gentle kisses along his jaw, and Sapnap lets his eyes fall shut, realises there's very little difference whether they're shut or not, and feels that braveness again, leans toward the comfort of it, murmurs, "Wait."

George pulls back, hums in askance, and Sapnap follows him upright, grasps the hem of his shirt and pulls it over his head, feeling it catch the arm of his glasses. 

"Oh," George says, "Are you sure?"

"Mhm," Sapnap nods, and then realises George can't see him, "it's dark," he says. 

George lets out a slow breath, "... Can I touch?" 

"Of course."

George's palm brushes his collar, warm and a little calloused, moves slightly, almost directly over his heart. Sapnap stays stock still, barely breathes. 

"Yes or no to marks?" 

"Um- yes, please," 

George's breath hits his neck, hot and damp, and Sapnap shudders, "Fuck," George hisses, and then bites down, not hard enough to do much more than surprise, but Sapnap still gasps, hands flying back toward George's shoulders, over and around to cling to his back as Sapnap is guided down by insistent lips, hands that touch gently, brush along his sides and press into the softness there as George hums against his throat. 

"Move back," he murmurs, and Sapnap feels the vibration of it, releases George to push himself back with his hands and George takes hold of his hips, hooks his thumbs through Sapnap's belt loops, "these coming off too?" 

Sapnap nods, moans, and George kisses his adam's apple with a laugh, 

"I could feel that, but from now on tonight I'm gonna need verbal answers from you, okay pretty boy? I need you to tell me what you want." 

Sapnap nods again, feels his voice catch in his throat as George's fingers brush the skin above his waistband.

"Okay," he says.

George hums, kisses him chastely, murmurs, "Good boy," against his lips and Sapnap wants to whine, wants to gasp, loves the way it sounds on George's lips, "hips up," George says, and Sapnap lets George tug on his waistband, manhandle him out of his clothes before George shucks his own jeans, leans back down to kiss him, deep, messy in the dark. George's skin is hot against his own, ticklish and smooth, and George runs his hand over Sapnap's chest, through dark hair, down toward soft sides, soft stomach, soft hips. His hands are gentle, more exploratory than anything, and Sapnap sighs, feels goosebumps rise at his sides as George kisses a line from jaw to chest, halting to nip and suck at his skin. George drags his tongue over Sapnap's nipple and he jolts, grabbing at George's back and he giggles, "Sensitive, huh?" 

"I didn't know," Sapnap breathes, "you feel good." 

"Yeah? Good. I've wanted to do this," George kisses over Sapnap's sternum, trails his hands down to grip his hips, and then bites down on his chest playfully "wanted to get my mouth on you."

"Please," Sapnap breathes, and George groans, licks the skin he'd been biting. 

"Yeah? Tired of teasing, Pandas?" 

Sapnap nods, moans out of frustration, hisses out a quiet, "George, please," and shudders when George hums against him. 

"Of course, anything, Sap," before pulling back. Sapnap listens to footsteps on carpet, hears something hit the bed next to him and then the creak of the mattress as George's hands return, splayed over his thighs,, and then his lips, pressed into his tummy gently. 

"Next time I'll teach you to use those pretty lips," George whispers, bites into his hip and Sapnap gasps, arches his back without thinking, "but for now, I need your hand, darling," and he works his way up Sapnap's chest, licks a line along his collarbone before pulling Sapnap's hand away from his shoulder. Sapnap feels George settle between his thighs, close, so close, never close enough, but still he loves the warmth of George's skin along his own. 

George sucks on Sapnap's lower lips softly, murmurs, "Ready?" 

Sapnap sighs, and George lets out a gentle breath, "C'mon, Sap, we talked about this, you need to tell me," 

"Mm, yes," he says, cringes at his own voice, "please." 

"Fuck, you're good at that. I should have you ask for things more often." 

Sapnap feels George's lips trail down his neck, tilts his head to give him more to work with. George nips at his skin, murmurs, "Ok, darling, give me your hand," and there is a snap, and George rubs something cold, slick, viscous, into his palm, "just to make it easier," he says, "this is one of the things you can do without lube, but it's nice to have." 

Sapnap nods, rolls his eyes at himself, and then murmurs a shaky "okay."

"Good boy," George murmurs, "thank you for answering," and Sapnap sighs, feels that now familiar twisting heat at the praise, wants to preen, wants to ask George to say it again. George leans back, takes Sapnap's hand in both of his, abt moves it down, down, before he's close enough to feel the warmth of them both.

"Now what we're gonna do," George says, "is-" and guides Sapnap's hand down around them, hot and a little sticky with precome in Sapnap's case, "there we go," and George wraps his own hand around Sapnap's from the opposite side, and suddenly they're pressed together, hot and wet and slick, and Sapnap gasps, feels George move back down to chuckle into his shoulder,

"Feel good, Sap?" 

"Mhm," it's barely recognisable as an affirmation, voice wavering, with the urge to move, to squeeze, to push his hips up. 

George laughs again, guides their hands and Sapnap pushes his hips up, moans and feels George lick his skin, hum in return. 

Sapnap has never seen George naked, but now he's felt him. George is longer than he is, thinner though, hot against his hand, and when George moves Sapnap bites his lip, fights the urge to moan louder than he means to. 

"So good for me, Sap, you sound so good, feel so good," George babbles into the skin of his neck between wet kisses, "so pretty." 

And George can't even see him, has no idea whether Sapnap is pretty or not, but the weight of it, pressed into him with soft, insistent lips, makes it feel true. 

George's fingers lace with his, and tighten around them both as George presses down, shifts along Sapnap and the white hot push and pull of it is perfect. Sapnap's free hand clutches at George's back, blunt fingernails dragging up his spine just slightly more roughly than he means to, and George moans, hips stuttering as he rolls them down into the pressure between them. George sounds beautiful like this, breaths heavy and warm where they hit his skin between licking, sucking kisses. George’s unoccupied hand rests over his chest, thumb gently rolling the bud of his nipple as Sapnap shudders. It builds, hot and twisting pressure all over him, like George is everywhere, like he’s everything, and Sapnap arches his back, feels George shift their joined hands, hot and sticky as George grinds down against him, grazes every sensitive spot Sapnap knows along with a couple that are new to him, smears precome into his happy trail when he pushes down. It's a surprise when Sapnap topples over the edge, jerks his hips with a gasp and spills all over their fingers, all over George, and George bites down between his neck and shoulder, keeps moving as Sapnap moans, twitches through the aftershocks until he slows, moves to let Sapnap's hand go. 

"No," Sapnap murmurs, "stay. You haven't-" and George's breath hitches against his skin, cooling the damp places where George's tongue had been. 

"You sure, Pandas?" 

"Mm," Sapnap nods, "yeah. Please, Georgie?"

"Fuck," George hisses, "okay then. You can do it on your own if you want, or we can keep doing this?" 

"...I want to do it," Sapnap breathes, unlaces his fingers from George's, slightly tacky, and just feels him for a moment, hot and wet between them as he pants into Sapnap's neck, "Kiss me, George?"

"Yes," George says, wipes a hand on his shirt discarded on the sheets before bringing both up to cup Sapnaps face, sucking on his lip before pressing his tongue between, licks into Sapnap’s mouth with Sapnap’s hand around him, moans deep in his chest when Sapnap pulls, feels the drag of it against his palm, the drips sliding between his fingers. 

“Fuck, Sap,” George nips his lip, “yes,” and pushes his hips down, and Sapnap twitches again, wants to wrap his legs around George, wants George to ruin him like this. He plays with everything he can feel, runs his thumb along a vein and George cries out into his mouth. Sapnap sucks on his tongue, loves the sound, the feeling, the closeness in this, makes a tight ring with his fingers that George fucks into, fast and rough and pressing into Sapnap’s hip, the soft spot where his tummy curves in, wet and sticky as the rest of him now as he moves with George, his rhythm falling apart until he jerks once, twice, moans into Sapnap’s mouth and Sapnap feels heat burst against the skin of his stomach, his hips, his thighs. 

George slips away from his lips, takes a few shuddering breaths right next to his ear before letting his head fall, mouth pressed to his shoulder and kisses wherever he can reach. Sapnap lets him, turns his head to press his own kisses into George’s soft, sweet-smelling hair. 

“Good?” he murmurs, and George hums low, kisses Sapnap’s neck just below his ear. 

“So good,” George murmurs, “perfect,” and his voice tickles Sapnap’s skin. Sapnap hums, giggles and runs his hand up George’s back. 

“Thank you,” Sapnap smiles, “my hand feels gross,” he breathes. 

George huffs a laugh against his neck, murmurs, “Yeah,” and lets his hand rest on Sapnap’s chest, “there’s a spare toothbrush for you in the bathroom,” he says, “for um- when we go clean up.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course,” George rolls off of him, and Sapnap feels cold for the first time tonight. He reaches his hand out, the clean one, to George, who takes it, rubs his thumb over Sapnap’s knuckles in the dark, “I’m gonna-”

“Yeah. Um- I’ll… when you’re done.”

“Cool.” 

George rises, and Sapnap hears the water run, hears him wash, brush his teeth. Sapnap yawns, pokes the sticky mess down his front with an already dirty hand, “Ew.”

George reenters the bedroom, “Bathroom’s free, there are cloths and stuff, but if you want a shower that's cool too.”

“Hm,” Sapnap gets up, “shower tomorrow I think.”

“Yeah, sounds good.”

Sapnap wanders out toward the bathroom, stubs his toe with a hissed curse. The night has cleared somewhat, and a pale, faraway moon hangs low in the sky. The spare toothbrush is just visible in the lowlight, as well as the cloth George left on the lip of the sink. Sapnap washes, brushes his teeth, stumbles back toward George’s room, hand stretched out so as not to hit anything. 

“Hey,” George murmurs, and Sapnap shuffles up the bed on his knees, collapses where George has pulled the covers back. 

“Hey.”

George runs the backs of his fingers over Sapnap’s shoulder, and Sapnap takes his hair down, shakes his head gently, feels George’s fingers reach up to card through it as he sets the hairtie down, along with his glasses, and settles in beside him.

“Your hair is soft,” George murmurs, and Sapnap smiles.

“Thank you,” he says, “yours too.”

George hums a laugh, and Sapnap rolls onto his side slightly. George’s arm lies across his waist, and George mumbles into the nape of his neck, voice quiet with exhaustion, “Is this okay?”

Sapnap hums and nods, feels George’s hand come to rest over his sternum. 

“George?”

“Yeah?”

Sapnap pauses, takes a breath. He almost doesn’t want to ask, but he knows he’ll find out at some point if he doesn’t, and he doesn’t think George will kick him out into the night. 

“Why haven’t we like… had sex? Like, not, I mean yeah we’ve done- and I know you want to take things slow, but, if its because of me I just- you’re not gonna scare me away, I want this.”

George sighs, and it’s cold down Sapnap’s spine. 

“Honestly?” he says, and Sapnap nods, “I want to go slow,” Sapnap feels George’s fingertips rub tiny circles into his skin, “that’s part of it. But also,” he halts sighs again, and kisses the base of Sapnap’s neck softly, “I know you trust me enough to say yes to this, but I want you to trust me enough to say no.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… it’s not for everybody, y’know? And I don’t want you to go through with anything that makes you uncomfortable because you want me to feel good. And- and that time with the- when you cried, Sap, you said to keep going. And I know, and you know, that if we had, you only would’ve gotten worse, you were completely overwhelmed, and I don’t want that for you, at least, not until you know your limits. Until you know if that's something you want from me.”

“I want everything from you,” Sapnap breathes, and George’s hand stalls, just over his heart.

“And you’ll have it, Pandas. Just not yet.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know i know its been a whole month but listen. here's a long one to make up for it.  
> my twt is @qquangularist

Sapnap wakes slowly. That orange winter morning sunlight pours through the open blinds, stripes the bare shoulder that peeks over the covers, the soft white sheets. He takes a deep breath, savours the smell of clean cotton, of expensive shower gel, heady and warm, and as his ribs rise something else rises with them. Skin, warm and smooth against his own and Sapnap feels that George is still curled around his back, the slow breaths of sleep cool down his spine and a hand laid over the curve of him, the drop that folds between ribcage and hip, and he is deathly, painfully aware of his bareness now, of his chest, of his tummy, of the soft fingertips that barely graze his skin and he briefly freezes, tries desperately to remember where he left his shirt, to figure out how the fuck he's going to get out of bed without George noticing. 

Sapnap stiffens, clenches his jaw as the pressure builds in his chest. It’s like he's too big for his skin, like he can't breathe or he’ll ruin everything, like he’s going to move wrong, sound wrong, think wrong and wake George up.

And then he feels it. 

So gentle that had he not been hyper aware of every inch of his body, he would've missed the ghost of lips against his shoulder, the inhalation George takes, pressed into his skin, as if to breathe him in, slow and barely there. 

But all at once Sapnap feels every point of contact between them, the press of George's chest to his back, arm draped over his side, lips to his shoulder blade and the warm puff of breath that escapes them, raising goosebumps. And George holds him, and he feels himself pulled gently inward, back, back inside himself, into skin that doesn’t feel so tight around him anymore. His breath shakes slightly, and he feels so fucking naked, so exposed under covers, like anybody who looked could see right through his body into the core of him, see every fear, every weakness, every flaw, but George breathes him in, holds him down, and he can still his mind, calm the whirling of his thoughts with the gentle movement of fingertips over his side. It’s like warm water over his panic, like the smell of home after being away for too long. 

George hums gently, and Sapnap feels him shift, feels the warmth of him along his spine as the front of George’s thigh hits the back of his own, gentle. Sapnap can’t stop himself from yawning, feels the answering shift as George’s fingers twitch against his side, flex outward as he stretches his arm forward, groans softly into Sapnap’s neck, and Sapnap pushes his own arms down and outward, feels the pull of muscle as his arms, shoulders, back, return to life. He blinks, turns his face into the pillow slightly and the light glints off the lens of his glasses on the bedside table, the hairtie that rests beside them. George’s hand shifts, rests against the center of his chest as George pulls him close, sighs into his hair and murmurs, “G’morning,” voice deep in his throat and warm, quiet but taking up all of Sapnap’s focus. He yawns again, stretches his jaw with a click that George giggles at.

“Hey,” he mumbles, lets himself roll onto his back as George shifts his chin to rest on Sapnap’s shoulder. 

“Sleep well?”

“Mm,” Sapnap nods, rubs his eyes and runs a hand back to move the hair from his face, “you?”

“Yeah, pretty good.”

They stay there, for a moment, and Sapnap can feel George’s eyes on him as he looks out at the pale sky. George shifts, twists, cracks his back noisily and Sapnap grins, just barely giggling. George sniffs, blinks, shakes a hand through his hair and murmurs, “Was this… okay?”

Sapnap turns to him, on his back and just slightly angled toward him, sun gold on his face, crease of pillowcase marked onto his face.

“Being here?”

George nods, and Sapnap nods back, feels the shift of fabric around his shoulders as he rolls toward George, watches the shadows shift and the light play on his dark eyelashes, eyes, normally near black, deep, rich brown in the early sun, “Yeah,” he says, “I um- I liked being here”

_ I like being anywhere with you, _ he thinks, says nothing more. 

George smiles, so soft in this light, so uncharacteristically gentle. 

There is barking downstairs, and they grin at one another. George snickers. 

“You stay in bed where it's warm, I'll go let her out and take a shower, put the heat on, and then by the time you get up you won't freeze your bollocks off,” he says, and Sapnap splutters a laugh.

“Okay,” he grins, watches George pull the covers back, rise slowly from the bed and make a plaintive noise.

“S’fucking cold,” he says, and Sapnap giggles under the duvet, to which George grins, “yeah you laugh now, but I might just open the window after I shower,” he pulls boxers from a drawer, shivers exaggeratedly as he puts them on.

Sapnap watches his back as he pulls a hoodie on, wanders out onto the landing, and disappears from view down the stairs. He hears a muffled “Shit,” from downstairs and calls back,

“What?”

“Left my phone down here, it’s dead, I never turned the music off.”

Sapnap squints. 

“Is mine down there?”

“Uh,” there is a moment of silence, “yep! Forty percent,” he sounds bitter, and Sapnap giggles, shuffles further down and feels the weight of sleep and warmth still pulling at his limbs. He reaches for his glasses, acetate cold against the bridge of his nose. He stares at the sky, wonders if there’s frost on the ground. The pull toward dozing is too strong to ignore, and Sapnap finds himself curling up, losing himself in the warm, spiced smell of George, the soft sheets, the feeling of home and the familiar discomfort of his glasses digging into his face.

He wakes to sound, and the smell of food. Sapnap shifts, sits up and feels pleasantly warm even after getting out of bed. He reaches for the bag that George had left propped up to the side of his chest of drawers, pulls that same white t-shirt and grey sweatpants out, along with socks, his own underwear from home, and holds the bundle over himself as he makes his way to the bathroom. George had left the window shut, and condensation gathers on the mirror, the window and the sides of the sink. Sapnap showers as quickly as he can when the hot water feels so good against him, can't help but hum as he steps under the spray, washes the dried sweat from his skin, the oil from his hair and the sleep from his eyes, smells like George again and, gently murmuring half-remembered song lyrics, makes a note of the brand of shower gel this time, resolves to buy some for himself.

Sapnap combs fingers through his damp hair after dressing, finding the brush in George’s room and dragging it through a few times before tying the strands up loosely and making his way down carpeted steps. The hallway smells of frying, of hot food and butter and salt, and George stands in the kitchen, two mugs by the kettle as he leans over the stove, pokes streaky bacon with a spatula that looks to be more scorch marks than wood. 

“Hey,” he says, and George turns,

“Hey, tea? Coffee? I’ve only got instant but it's not that bad.”

“Uh, sure.”

“Which?”

“Coffee?” Sapnap has no idea how he takes tea, or if he even likes it, and George nods, opens a drawer for a teaspoon and says,

“Watch them for me, would you?”

“Okay,” Sapnap shuffles over to the stove, watches the sizzle of the pan as George pours boiling water into mugs, opens another drawer and pulls out a wicked looking knife, serrated and long, before bringing it down on a loaf of bread, cutting doorstep slices that he stacks in pairs on two plates, sets on the glass top of the table before stirring one mug, taking a tea bag out of another, and placing them on the table too. 

“Doing good?” he asks, and Sapnap turns back to the bacon that’s slowly beginning to blacken.

“Fuck!” he says, and George laughs, shoulders him aside gently and takes over, “Sorry, I got distracted.”

“It's fine, s’better crispy anyway, sit down and start buttering I’ll be over in a sec.”

Sapnap sits as George gets rid of the grease, puts the pan in the sink where it steams, spits viciously. The bread is soft enough that the butter, still hard with cold, rips through it slightly, never really a problem he’d had to consider in Texas. The novelty almost outweighs the frustration of it, and George sets a plate of bacon between them, starts assembling a sandwich. It’s an affront to most of what Sapnap knows, but he’ll try anything once so he copies George, who pauses with his hand on a bottle of sauce to pour the smallest amount of milk into his tea. 

“Milk?”

“Hm?”

“For your coffee,” George murmurs, and Sapnap nods, lets him pour, “tell me when.”

“Now.”

“Sugar?”

“Thanks.”

It’s so quiet, besides the hum of the extractor fan, so normal, so casual that Sapnap’s chest aches. He watches George take a formidable bite, does the same and finds it to be… good, if a little stodgy. The bread is fresh and sinks down under his fingers and teeth, the bacon crunches. Puppy trots in and George hands her the end of a piece of bacon fat from the table. 

“You shouldn’t feed her from the table,” Sapnap murmurs, and George shrugs, guilty,

“Listen,” he says, reproachful, and then looks up, seems to come to a realisation, puffs out his chest, “she’s my dog and I’ll give her bad habits if I want. You’ve already got her thinking she’s allowed up on the couch.”

Sapnap smiles, raises his mug to his lips. It is instant coffee, so it’s nothing to write home about, but it's inoffensive, and the warmth is nice. All of it is nice, really, the food, the fact that he’s not eating alone, the way George absently scratches at the stubble on his jaw, sips tea. George could grow out some stubble, Sapnap thinks. It’d look good, he’d seem older, maybe.

“What?” George grins. 

“What, what?”

“You’re looking at me.”

“Well yeah, I'm talking to you.”

George rolls his eyes, rubs his face with the back of his wrist, “you’re so annoying,” he grins. Sapnap grins back. 

* * *

Sapnap has lectures all afternoon, and while he’s able to focus just fine, which is unusual, his mind keeps straying back to the warmth of George’s soft, clean sheets, the smell of frying, of tea. He turns his head at one point and smells George's shampoo, smiles, realises it's coming from him, and then rolls his eyes at himself. 

George messages him on the walk across campus to the dorm, the thin, spitting rain like walking through cobwebs, sticking to Sapnap's hair and clothes. Sapnap reads through the drops that gather on the screen like mist. 

**_"Next lesson soon?"_ ** it says. 

He replies, tries not to sound overeager, feels his chest warm as he swipes his key-card, listens to the high wailing beep of the front door's locking mechanism as he ascends the rickety stairs. 

**_"I was thinking this friday"_ **

_"Call?"_

Sapnap sends, shutting the door of his room and shucking his damp coat. 

George calls him rather than respond, and Sapnap taps the speaker icon. 

"Hey,"

"Hey, Sap, so what do you think?" 

"Friday? Sure, I think I can do friday. I've got a couple of things to do for an elective I took but I should be done by the afternoon if you're cool for me to come over." 

"Yeah, definitely. Would you like to um-" George pauses, and the silence stretches long enough that 

Sapnap wonders if the call has dropped. 

"George?" 

"Hm? Yeah, sorry, I was just thinking about food, maybe?" 

"Yeah we can do takeout," 

"Or I could make something." 

"Oh! Yeah, sounds great. Would uh- d'you want me to bring anything over?" 

"Nope, just yourself."

Sapnap smiles, toes his boots off and feels the chill seep into his bones as his socks hit the floor, 

"Alright," he says, throws himself down on his bed as the mattress gives an almighty creak, "I'm literally just back from class and I wanna nap so bad but if I do I won't sleep."

"Well if you want I could offer you a distraction?" 

"Oh? Like what?"

"Like kicking your ass at chess," 

Sapnap grins, heaves himself up toward his desk,

"You're on, bitch, get ready to eat those words!" 

They play for hours, up until Sapnap's roommates get back and he stops feeling like he's able to yell when George wins. It's weird to be spending so much time alone with George, strange to be on his side of the world rather than his own and Dream's. Weird, but good, Sapnap thinks, and he gets up to make something to eat, realising he'd completely forgotten to get lunch. The shared kitchen isn't dirty per se, just disorganised, and Sapnap rummages through the cupboard he knows his stuff is in, discovers someone stole his doritos and makes a face. He makes ramen and when the salty smell of broth reaches his nose, misses the warmth, the bright airiness of George’s kitchen. He eats at his desk, manages to gather the motivation to read one of the texts he has to base his essay on, academic jargon near gibberish and Sapnap reads the same line of the thirteenth page four times before glancing up and finding it dark outside. He sighs at the sheer inconvenience of short winter days, watches rain spatter against the window pane and streak down and down and down, glittering orange in the light of the lamps outside, old oil lanterns renovated rather than removed, left all over campus in winding trails, paths long since changed. Sapnap doesn't know what he’ll do when he has to go home at the end of the next semester. He doesn't know if he wants to. 

* * *

The week passes, as weeks are wont to do, so incredibly slowly, and then all in a rush. He turns in the assignment George helped with, feels confident. He goes to lectures, misses a morning class in favour of a late night (or 10am in Sapnap's case) conversation with Dream, giggling through tinny phone speakers and babbling nonsense until Dream gets quiet, voice slurring and devolving into grunts, before Sapnap hears a snore on the other end of the line. The essay is proving slightly more difficult than he’d hoped, given that most of his work so far has been assignment based and continuous, solving problems and completing projects, and as such he has all but forgotten how to get his wordcount up to where it needs to be, has made every argument he can think of and still has less than two thirds of his goal, but he makes what slow progress he can. 

Friday morning comes, and Sapnap makes to turn his laptop on. Nothing. He tries again, checks the outlet, the power is fine, checks the charger, nothing seems out of place, and swears softly to himself. He has seven hours. Sapnap dresses, slips his laptop into its case, and then his bag, curses and kicks the leg of his bed just barely hard enough to hurt, before grabbing his jacket and running out the door. The woman at the IT repairs shop takes a long look at him, frazzled and desperate, and he gently places his laptop down on the glass display case. He’s a software guy, not hardware, and this definitely doesn't look like a software kind of problem. She mumbles that she’ll have a look at it for him, and that in the meantime he should go to the library to do what he has to as long as he's got the work backed up somewhere. Sapnap thanks her profusely, takes the ticket she offers him and slips it into his pocket. 

The campus library is a large, glass-fronted building, gleaming grey against the cloudy sky, and sapnap almost gets himself caught in the revolving door, barely snatches his shoulder out of the way before it shuts with the heavy sound of bristles hitting the doorframe. He catches his breath, looks longingly at the cafe in the foyer before sighing, fishing around for his student ID card and making his way through the turnstiles into the quiet. Rows and rows of towering shelves stretch before him, split down the middle by a staircase, grey carpet, glass, steel. He ascends. 

Library computers, tucked away in a far corner upstairs, by fire exit doors and utterly abandoned by the student body, range from relatively decent, to massive desktop monstrosities from 2004. Sapnap sets his backpack down at one of the enclosed booths, breathes a sigh of relief at his hopefully functional machine. He pulls notes from his backpack, sets his refill pad down on the desk, hurriedly shuffles out of his jacket, letting it fall over the backrest of the chair. He glances out the floor to ceiling window as the PC starts, watches rooks on telephone wires, the grey sky, the old church that looms over town, shudders at sudden cold. 

Sapnap finds his essay, all 1700 words of it, and heaves a sigh, squeezes his eyes shut at briefly and runs a hand through his hair. He can do this, he can. Half of what he needs to reach the wordcount is references anyways, and most of his sources he's written down in his notes, having taken all of them from a lecture three weeks beforehand. It isn’t a difficult essay, in theory, it's easy to make a case for ecocriticism, but the articles are  _ dense. _ Sapnap rereads quote after quote, has to search for pdfs he'd had saved on his laptop, to remake a bibliography, to try to find the citations within texts he’d had open in other tabs The headache sets in quickly, and soon Sapnap’s eyes hurt, tension in his jaw making the base of his skull ache as he pauses to stretch, to check the clock. He’s almost finished. It’ll be a few minutes late, but that's fine, and once he gets it done he can go home and pass out. He hasn’t eaten all day either, he thinks, that's probably why he’s got a headache, and Sapnap’s phone buzzes on the desk. 

_ “Hey where are you?” _

George.

Sapnap gasps, hisses a gentle “shit” and checks the clock again. He’s got half an hour. He can do this in half an hour, right?

_ “At the library. My laptop is fucked idk whats up w it. Almost done tho. Gonna be a little late, sorry :(“  _

_ “Dw abt it, I hadn't even started cooking.” _

Sapnap blinks a few times to ease the painful scratch of his contacts, feels his stomach growl and frowns. He rolls his shoulders. Lays his cold hands back on the keyboard and starts to type again. 

* * *

“Hey.”

Sapnap jumps, whips around, and George grins at his shock. 

“Wh- how’d you get in here?” 

George flashes what looks like an old student card, “Just kept it,” he says, pulls a chair from a neighbouring booth over and peers at the screen. Sapnap stares at him. 

_ “Why _ are you in here?”

George shrugs, “I had nothing going on, figured I’d see if you wanted help,” He shoves a hand into his bag, “or this,” and pulls out a flask. 

“What is it?” 

“Coffee, I picked some up for you, figured you probably needed it.”

“Oh my god,” Sapnap sighs, glances around furtively before opening the flask and breathing deep, letting out a sigh that turns into a hum halfway, and George laughs. 

“How long have you been here?”

“Uh… since ten.”

“Did you at least eat?”

Sapnap sips the coffee. It’s perfect, warm and creamy and exactly the right temperature to drink without being scalded.

“Did you get this in the little place by the train station? It's good,” he says, and George raises an eyebrow. 

“I take it that means no.”

“... I was freaking out,” Sapnap murmurs, but George just lays a hand on his notes, offers him a smile.

“Is there anything I can help with?”

“Oh!” Sapnap sits back slightly, furrows his brow, “Um, maybe. Would you mind filling this out for me? All the information is on the card or written down here,” he passes George the cover sheet for the essay, his student card and his notepad, and George nods.

“Sure,” he says, “they still want physical copies of this shit?”

“Yeah,” Sapnap shrugs, “arts departments, man.”

George hums, “Why’d you take a literary criticism elective?”

Sapnap bites his lip, turns back to the screen and continues with his bibliography, “Wanted to sound smart I guess,” he says. George nods, and Sapnap watches him smile gently out of the corner of his eye, feels his chest squeeze slightly.

The coffee warms his hands, and the company warms the rest of him, and Sapnap finishes the essay only an hour after his deadline, perfectly reasonable considering the circumstances, while George fills in the cover sheet, dictates Sapnap’s bibliography for him, and the two of them stand in line at the printers, watch the campus lamps turn on again, and Sapnap clutches the still-warm paper in both hands as George wanders across campus with him to the arts block, telling stories about when he was a fresher, giggling and pointing out that he’d given his first ever handjob in the bathroom of the student union bar. Sapnap turns to him, incredulous, 

“Really?”

“Yeah, picture it, barely legal Gogy, complete social reject, absolutely shitfaced off of Wednesday £3.50 rum cocktails, and probably the sweatiest man you’ve ever met, just greasy in every sense of the word, shoved into a bathroom stall.”

“Gross,” Sapnap giggles, and George nods. 

“It really was,” He says, “I only saw him one other time, and I ran away,”

“You  _ ran?” _

“Yes! I was eighteen and used to get anxious ordering at a burger king. Yes I ran!” 

“Did he see you?”

“Probably,” George shrugs, “I don’t feel bad though, he didn’t even return the favour.”

The english department offices are quiet, near empty, and Sapnap slots his essay into the letter box, heaves a sigh and leans against George. 

“I hated all of that”

“Y’know? I could tell,” George’s hand rises to Sapnap’s hair, gently running his fingers over the strands and pulling Sapnap into a loose hug, “C’mon,” he murmurs, “lets go get something to eat, I’m not cooking.” 

The walk toward George’s takes them past a little Indian place underneath a bridal dress shop, down a flight of stairs, and Sapnap is hungry enough that he sways slightly on his way down, catching himself with a laugh and opening the door for George. It’s warm inside, and the walls are a yellowy cream, lit with low lights in stained glass lampshades and candles on every table, and all at once Sapnap’s stomach drops. It’s romantic. The man at the reception desk greets them warmly, and Sapnap returns it as George raises a hand,

“Sorry,” he says, “we haven’t anything booked, do you have a table for two maybe?”

The man, Michael, his name tag says, nods, states, “Follow me,” with a grin. They are lead around the corner, behind the view into a bustling kitchen, down towards a glass ceilinged conservatory, draped in strings of lights that hang over small tables, directing them to a corner table, looking out onto the river that swirls, black and beautiful down below, glinting with streetlights and Sapnap is very nearly lost in the movement, coming back to himself with a start when George pats his shoulder before sitting down, and Sapnap takes the seat on the outside, shoving his backpack under his chair and getting a hand caught in his jacket sleeve as Michael places a pair of menus down on the table, 

“We’ll have someone over shortly,” he says, nods and walks back to the front desk. 

George flicks his menu open, leafs through a couple of pages before looking over the top of it at Sapnap, who has picked up his own.

“The pasanda’s good.” 

“Yeah? You’ve been here before?”

“Mm, once or twice, yeah. It’s nice,” he squints back down at his menu, “I might get a jalfrezi,” he says.

Sapnap has been on fewer dates than he’d like to admit, but he looks over his menu at George, haloed in gold, murmuring about starters, and his chest aches far worse than his growling stomach. The candle flickers in its beautiful stained glass container, glowing orange, crimson, deep maroon. The waitress that arrives has a name tag, but Sapnap doesn't get time to read it. She sets a bottle of water on the table, and George is speaking to him. Sapnap blinks. George is speaking to him.

“Hm?”

“Coconut rice?” he asks, and Sapnap shrugs.

“Sure.”

“Cool, and uh, I think we can split a naan, right?” He motions to Sapnap again.

“Yeah, yeah cool,” Sapnap nods, and the waitress turns to him.

“And for you, sir?” she says, and Sapnap opens his mouth. Shuts it again. 

“Um- pasanda,” he says.

She nods, jots it down, “Chicken, lamb, prawn, vegetarian?”

“Chicken,” Sapnap states, figuring it'd be cheaper than anything but the vegetarian version, probably, “please.”

“Alright,” she holds her notepad out, “onion bhajis starter, king prawn jalfrezi, chicken pasanda, naan, and coconut rice. And to drink?”

George looks over at Sapnap, “Wine?”

“Wine?” Sapnap asks.

“Oh go on, it's the weekend,” he looks up at the waitress, “a bottle of your house white, please.” 

“Of course sirs, I’ll have that right over for you, enjoy.” She takes their menus, leaves.

Sapnap stares at George.

“Wine?” he asks again. 

“Yeah,” George shrugs, “why not. I’m more a sauvignon blanc man myself but their house white is a pinot grigio. It's nice, sweet. You’ll like it, don’t worry.” 

Sapnap shrugs, nods, hooks one ankle behind the other and leans his chin on a hand, watches the water. 

“What um- what happened to your laptop?” George asks. 

“I actually have no idea, it just refused to start up this morning and I panicked, but like at least it was the kind of panic where I can do something about stuff and not just like, sit on the floor,” he interrupts himself giggling, and George smiles at him, “I took it to the repairs place like five minutes from here,” he says, “gonna go back tomorrow and see what’s up with it.” 

George nods, and someone new comes out to the table, sets a bottle of wine down in a cooler on the table. George thanks them, pours two glasses, “It’s weird that it’d just die like that. Maybe it's a problem with the battery?”

“Yeah that’s what I thought, but I have no idea. Could be anything, I just hope I can get it fixed and don’t have to buy another one.” He heaves a sigh, shuts his eyes briefly, and when he opens them George is looking at him, head tilted slightly.

“You look tired,” he says, and Sapnap nods with a hum.

“I’m exhausted,” he laughs gently, and George’s brow furrows.

“We don’t have to do anything tonight,” he says, “we can just go home after this and go to bed.”

“Home?”

“Yeah back to mine,” George says, and then quickly backtracks as Sapnap's chest fills with bubbles, fizzes, “or your dorm. Whichever.”

Sapnap feels his face heat up, and shakes his head, “I’m okay,” he says, “I can do the lesson. I want to.” 

"Well-" 

Plates are placed in front of them, and the smell of warm food makes Sapnap's guts growl again. He smiles at their waitress with a nod and picks up his cutlery. 

"Well, if you change your mind just, know that it won't bother me." 

Sapnap shoves a forkful of crunchy fried onion into his mouth, drizzled with mango chutney and moans as quietly as he's able at the taste. 

"Mhm," he nods, swallows, "I'm fine George." 

George is right. Sapnap does enjoy the wine, but he enjoys his food much, much more. When the main course arrives, the pasanda is rich and aromatic and creamy, leaves the taste of almonds and coconut on his tongue, sweet and warming in the best of ways. George's jalfrezi is bright scarlet, stains his lips slightly and Sapnap watches them against the thin rim of the wine glass, mesmerised. 

George inviting him home still whirls around in his mind, and Sapnap wants that. He wants it so badly, but not in the way George offers it. He thinks about the house. He thinks about Puppy, about his toothbrush in the cup on the edge of the sink, his hairtie on the bedside table. He thinks about George, thinks about Texas, about leaving, and it aches. 

"I want to come back here," Sapnap says, and George nods.

"Yeah, it's a nice place," he rips part of the naan away, slides it across his plate to gather sauce, "food's great." 

It isn't what Sapnap means, but he nods back, "Yeah," he says, "it's really good." 

When they’ve had their fill, and have emptied the bottle of wine between them, giggling about nothing and pushing the last few grains of sweet rice around their plates, George motions to the waitress and asks for the bill. Sapnap rummages around in his backpack for the wallet he knows is in there but George doesn’t even show him the slip of paper, pays by card.

“How much was it? Let me pay half,”

“It wasn’t expensive,” George shakes his head, “don’t worry about it.”

“George,” Sapnap scowls.

“Sapnap,” George mimics with an exaggerated pout, and Sapnap glares, “what?” George grins, leans back in his chair into the strings of fairy lights behind him, “Come on,” he says, “let me be nice after a long day. I don’t get to be nice very often.”

Sapnap rolls his eyes, “You  _ could _ ,” he says “you just enjoy being a bitch.”

“It’s my brand!”

Sapnap giggles to himself, “No, your brand is screaming Dream’s name and sleeping all day.”

“And yours is calling your friends daddy and causing problems on purpose.”

“That’s not true!”

“Oh yeah?” George grins, clearly enjoying himself, “What is it then?”

“Beating your dumb ass in a chess tournament and being Dream’s rival.”

“Rival?!” 

“Yeah!”

The receipt is brought to the table and Sapnap makes a grab for it but George is quicker, shoves it in his pocket and gives Sapnap a shit eating grin. He thanks the waitress, and Sapnap takes some cash out of his wallet and leaves an extra tip out of spite as George glares. He sticks his tongue out and George rolls his eyes, “Bratnap.”

Michael nods as they head toward the door, “Enjoy your night,” he says with a smile that Sapnap barely registers is  _ knowing _ and he waves back, face warming. He wants to explain that they’re not on a date, wants to absolve himself of guilt, but then, he supposes, it is a little bit the way Michael thinks it is, even if he’s slightly off.

They ascend the stone steps, more fairy lights wound around the wrought iron bannister and fence, and George tilts his head back, stares at the dark sky, stained amber over violet with the light of the town. 

“Home?” he asks. 

Sapnap nods. 

They wander, walk side by side on the cobbled pathway along shopfronts lit from within, old shops, old streets, old town juxtaposed with a glass-fronted tesco slapped down where George says there used to be a bakery. Trees planted along the roadside glint with lights left up after Christmas, and Sapnap presses his hands deep into his jacket pockets, rolls his shoulders against the chill. George wanders and rambles, points out places he’s been, stories he has, people’s houses, and Sapnap has very little to contribute, just watches him, comfortable in his babbling out of pure familiarity. It isn't strange to be the quiet one, George just needs not to have to put on a show. Sapnap knocks a loose cobble and George laughs when he stumbles, not cruelly though, and there’s a warmness to him that Sapnap is slowly getting used to. Something that hadn’t been there, or hadn't been visible at the very least, before they’d started their lessons. Sapnap likes it. The river stretches, wide and black, and George points out swans, tucked away in long grasses for the night, curled up in round, white lumps on the edge of the water. George’s little house is rising up to meet them all too soon, and George digs around for keys, curses briefly as he overbalances and Sapnap has to grab him.

“Are you drunk?”

“What? No,” George giggles, “On two glasses of wine? I thought you had more faith in me,” he shakes his head and Sapnap shrugs, grins at the sound of yapping from inside. 

“Yes, hello, yes, hi to you too, yap yap, mhm,” George nods as Puppy races around their legs, jumps up to place her front paws on Sapnap’s chin and roorooroo at him, which he returns joyfully. 

“Here,” George stretches a hand out, “your jacket,” and Sapnap hands it to him, lets him put both it and his own coat up onto hooks by the front door while Sapnap unlaces his shoes. 

They look right there, together.

* * *

  
  


“You don’t have pyjamas here,” George says, legs crossed on the bed and scrolling twitter as Sapnap clambers up beside him, “maybe you could bring some over next time.”

“I don’t really wear pyjamas usually,” Sapnap shrugs, and George raises his eyebrows.

“You’re gonna want some next week,” he says.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, there’s gonna be snow next week.”

“What? It’s almost march?”

“Mhm, cold snap,”

“Huh. Guess I’ll pick some up,” he murmurs, “if um… if it snows, d’you wanna, I dunno, go on a walk or something?”

“Sure,” George nods, eyes still on his timeline, “we can bring the dog.”

“Yeah! Sounds- sounds good.”

George places his phone facedown on the bedside dresser on his side. 

“Ready?”

Sapnap blinks, hands resting on his thighs and feet tucked up underneath him.

“Mhm.”

George smiles, laughs softly and sits up, moves in from the side of the bed, back against the headboard. 

“C’mere,” says. Sapnap smiles, shuffles forward as George opens his arms for him. Sapnap giggles, settles himself in George’s lap and lets George hold onto his hips.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hi.”

George looks up at him through long eyelashes, leans forward gently until his nose grazes the fuzz on Sapnap’s jaw, breath warm and ticklish along his neck, where he presses a soft, chaste kiss. Sapnap sighs, lets his head fall back, shuts his eyes to feel the warm pressure of lips that trace the curve of his jaw, rise up along his cheek before coming to rest at the corner of his lips, where Sapnap shifts, pulls himself into that gentle heat. George’s lips are still stained slightly darker pink, and his mouth is hot under Sapnap’s tongue, spiced and sweet and enticing. George pulls back, kisses him again, and once more, murmuring, “You taste of coconut,” and smiling gently, eyes closed and lashes fanned out over high cheekbones dusted with rose. Sapnap giggles.

“You taste hot,” he says, and George hums against his lips.

“Thank you,” he sucks on Sapnap’s lip gently, and Sapnap feels George’s hand shift up the back of his shirt as his own curl into George’s hair, into the fabric of his shirt over his chest. George stills, then, speaks into Sapnap’s mouth, “hot like temperature?”

“Hot like spicy,” Sapnap says, leans into George’s chest and sighs, tries to pull him back in.

George’s hands move to his hips, and he breaks away, grinning, “I need to brush my teeth,” he says.

“What?”

“If I get capsaicin on your cock you will not be happy with me.”

_ “What?” _

“Chillies, babe,” George says, and Sapnap stares.

“Does that-”

“Yes,” George nods emphatically, brows raised, “yes it does.”

Sapnap feels bubbling laughter rise in his chest, begins to giggle as George rolls them over, gives him a quick peck before placing a hand down next to his head in the sheets, looking down at him with a smile.

“Back in a second,” he murmurs, and hops down from the bed, calling back, “strip while I’m doing this, yeah?”

“Okay,” Sapnap says, pulls his shirt over his head and begins shucking his jeans, getting stuck around his ankles and pulling with a heavy breath, “will I need to?”

“Nah,” George’s voice is muffled, “pasanda’s not hot, you’ll be fine.” 

Sapnap finally gets free of his clothes, feels incredibly stupid sitting on the bed naked, and shuffles up, gets underneath the covers. George has changed them. They’re a cool shade of pale seafoam green, with barely-there patterns in a slightly lighter colour. George comes back after a few moments, stands in the doorway briefly, smiling, “Don’t hide in there, panda bear, come on out,” Sapnap takes a breath, “if you can,” George says, eyes gentle, “let me see you, pretty boy,” and the knot forming in Sapnap’s stomach starts turning itself into butterflies, bubbles and fizz. George pulls his shirt up over his head, sits on the edge of the bed, strips naked, all long pale lines and taut, toned limbs. Sapnap lets the duvet fall slightly, pushes it down over pudge and raises his thighs to hide as much as he can. 

“Sap,” George looks back at him, offers him a hand, “I can’t get my head between your legs if you don’t let me anywhere near you.”

Sapnap takes it. He’s a little sweaty but George doesn’t seem to mind. Sapnap pulls himself forward as George takes a pillow in his free hand, lets it fall to the carpeted floor and then guides Sapnap into a kiss that tastes of mint instead of spices. 

“There you are,” he whispers, “thank you,” and begins to rise before Sapnap stops him.

“Wait,” he says, “can- can I go first?” 

George blinks, “You- I mean if you want?”

“I want you to tell me how,” Sapnap feels his cheeks heat up, glances down between George’s legs before looking back up, “and then I can get a demonstration, as a reward.”

George watches him, something hungry in the way he stares, “Yeah,” he breathes, nods slowly, “we can do that. Come kneel down for me, darling,” George’s free hand slides down to the small of his back, and Sapnap is guided off the bed, down onto his knees on the pillow, “that’s it,” George murmurs, cups Sapnap’s jaw gently as Sapnap feels something in his mind soften, melt away and warm under the touch, “comfortable?”

“Mhm,” Sapnap nods, and George smiles.

“Good. It’s your first time, do not try to swallow,” he says, and Sapnap watches him for a moment, dark eyes resting on his lips, parted slightly as George’s hand rises gently to tilt his chin up. Sapnap feels himself grin.

“What if i want to swallow?”

George snaps, “What if I want to watch my come dribble down your chin and you’re not the one in charge here?”

Sapnap blinks, shudders, “Oh-”

George’s face softens as his hand draws back slightly, nose wrinkling as he murmurs, “Sorry, that was- sorry. Just, don’t swallow okay?”

Sapnap nods slowly, licks his lips and breathes, “Okay.”

He wants to tell George his stomach has dropped to the core of the earth, that he feels like he’s floating and that George snarling at him had only made the feeling stronger. He doesn’t know how to word any of it, so he nods again.

“Good boy,” George smiles, and Sapnap melts further, lets George run the pad of his thumb along his lips gently, “so pretty.” Sapnap knows it’s only niceties, but George sounds reverent in a way that makes him want to sigh, parts his lips to give George more to work with, feels the warm, slightly rough tip of George’s thumb catch on the damp skin of his lips and closes them around it on instinct. George’s eyes widen slightly and he brings his other hand down to card long thin fingers through Sapnap’s hair, inches his thumb in deeper, and Sapnap licks at it, watches George’s jaw drop slightly and feels himself smile again, curls his tongue over the digit and loves the feeling of it there, not pushing, just held as Sapnap hums and George pulls his hand back, looks down at him, starstruck.

“Fuck,” George murmurs, “you are something else.”

Sapnap lets out a breath that almost turns into laughter, grins and feels George’s fingers run back through his hair, shivers at the feeling. George drags his nails along Sapnap’s skin gently, lets Sapnap lean into the touch and shut his eyes slowly, let out a quiet sigh. Sapnap turns his head, lips grazing George’s wrist where he presses a featherlight kiss, and breathes, “I’m ready Georgie.” 

George sighs, leans down to kiss Sapnap again, run his hand down Sapnap’s neck down between his shoulder blades to feel him shudder against his lips. When he pulls back and sits up, he motions Sapnap forward, and Sapnap obliges, watches George and feels almost entirely weightless, lays a hand on either of his thighs, enjoys the subtle difference between his olive hand and George’s porcelain skin in the dim light before George tilts his head back toward him and smiling when Sapnap looks up at him. 

“Okay,” George says, “take it slow at first okay? You don't have to take it all at once.”

Sapnap nods, stares at George for a moment, at his soft, pink skin, at the fold of his thighs, the thick black hair that cuts a line down from his navel. George looks at him. 

“You can use your hands,” he says, and Sapnap comes back to himself all at once, blinks at George who laughs warmly, “only if you want to though,” he smirks, and Sapnap giggles back. 

“I will,” he says. George is big, hot to the touch, and Sapnap’s slightly clammy hands catch, rub on the thin skin slightly. George shudders, bites his lip, and Sapnap draws as close as he dares, lets his tongue rest on his lower lip, presses it, flat, gentle, against the tip and listens to George gasp, hiss as he lets out a breath.

“That’s it, baby boy,” he says, voice rough, quiet, “take your time.” 

He tastes of salt, of clean, warm skin and the smell of his shower gel, and weighs heavy on Sapnap's tongue as he closes his lips, presses a slightly messy kiss there, unpracticed and clumsy. George moans, “Fuck,” and Sapnap hums, grins. He wants to giggle, to tell George he sounds pretty, but pulls away slightly instead, watches George’s face and licks a long stripe from base to tip, slowly. George’s jaw drops and his brows furrow, and he lets out a shaky breath, hands twitching in Sapnap’s hair.

“God- fuck,  _ good boy, _ Sapnap,” he moans, and Sapnap struggles against his smile to slide his lips over the head, “yes, yes just like that,” raising a hand to push George’s fingers further into his hair, willing him to hold, to grab, to pull. George twitches against his tongue, and Sapnap loves this, he decides. He loves the feeling of making George cling like this, making him struggle not to drag and shove and claim, like there's a thread he can tug on to unravel George completely, like he’s winding it around his fingers and waiting for the pull, the stop, the sudden snap. He wants George to lose himself, wants George to drag him in so close he chokes, shudders at the thought of it and sucks gently, tastes salt, tastes skin. George moans deep in his throat, and Sapnap hums back, feels George’s fingers twitch, tighten, and dips his head down further, mouth full as George’s hands make their way to the back of his head, tangle up and pull gently. Sapnap feels the slight sting at the base of his skull, whines softly as George takes a deep breath, barely holds himself back from bucking his hips.

“God, Sapnap,” he breathes, “you think you could move for me, darling?” 

He strokes the hair at Sapnap’s temple with a thumb, and Sapnap nods slightly, shuffles slightly closer on his knees before pressing forward again, feels George on the back of his tongue briefly before pulling back with a noise he should be embarrassed by, but George’s groan is much louder, and much more fun to listen to. Sapnap doesn't think he’s ever heard George moan like this, like not fucking into Sapnap’s mouth is a struggle, like it’s a struggle he’s not sure he’ll win. He bobs his head as well as he’s able, a little uncoordinated with George’s hands just barely trembling against his skin. He can’t reach all the way, feeling pressure at the back of his tongue, almost brushing his throat and he’s too frightened of gagging to try to take George further, wishes he knew how to pull him in deep, how to fend off the feeling of choking long enough to make George shudder, let him relinquish that control. Sapnap hollows his cheeks, feels saliva gather on his lower lip as he moves and George’s fingers twist harshly in his hair. Sapnap whines and feels George’s hips jerk slightly, tries to swallow around him but his throat constricts and he gags, pulls off sloppily to cough, take a deep breath. George cups his face, murmurs apologies,

“You did so well, pretty boy, so good for me, thank you baby,” he coos, brushes Sapnap’s hair back with slightly shaky hands, leans down to press a kiss to his forehead.

“I’m not done,” Sapnap says, adjusts his hands on George’s thighs, feels the muscle tense under his fingers, “I’m okay, let me keep going.”

“You don’t have to,” George murmurs, “It’s okay darling we can get to you now,” but Sapnap pushes himself back slightly, meets George’s eyes, dark and blown out.

“Please?” he says, watches George lick his lips, that hunger returning in droves as he tips Sapnap’s chin up, captures his lips in a kiss before nipping gently, pulling away.

“How do you do that?” he breathes.

“Do what?”

“Fuck, you really don’t have any idea do you? Sapnap, do whatever you want,” George’s lips graze his own as he speaks, “I couldn’t possibly deny you.”

Sapnap rolls his shoulders against the full body shiver that makes him want to cling tight. He kisses George, parted lips warm and gentle as he kitten licks into George’s mouth, tilts his head and lets his hands slide further up George’s thighs, soft and hot, “Pull,” he sighs, “I wanna feel it,” and gasps as George bites down on his lip again, exhales with a grin before pulling away.

“I can do that baby,” he murmurs, and Sapnap feels the timbre of it in his own chest, somehow, feels George’s fingers twist, tighten in his hair, “although there isn’t much of anything to teach you,” George considers Sapnap, eyes hooded and dark, “you’re a little unpracticed maybe but- it’s perfect,” he breathes, “you’re perfect.”

Sapnap preens, leans into the pressure of George’s hands, feels himself fill with liquid warmth, and smiles. 

“Ready, pretty boy?”

Sapnap nods, hums, “yes,” and lets himself fall forward slowly, George’s grip on him stinging slightly with the pull. George twitches against his tongue this time, tastes slightly bitter and lets out a loud moan as Sapnap opens up for him, whines as George tugs on his hair, pulls him in closer. Sapnap wants to roll his hips against George’s leg, against the bed frame, realises how pathetic he’d look and hates that he doesn’t care.

“Tap my leg if I’m pulling too hard-” Sapnap nods, feels George twitch again with the movement, “fuck, baby boy.” 

Sapnap takes his time, loves the fact that George keeps trying to draw him closer, deeper, wants more and more, more than Sapnap can give, at least for now. Unpracticed, George had said. Only one cure for that particular flaw. And Sapnap wants to cure it, he really, truly does. If this is what makes George come apart, has him pulling and clinging, gripping Sapnap’s hair and gasping, then Sapnap wants it, wants it as often as possible. Sapnap hums when George starts to move, hollows his cheeks and loves the fullness of it, the melting, floating feeling of having George manhandle him, rock his hips forward and hiss through his teeth. He’s getting close, Sapnap thinks, from the way he’s talking, the shake of his hands, the twitch of muscle in his thigh under Sapnap’s fingertips as he lets them slide upward, over silken skin and sparse dark hairs.

“Feels so good, baby boy,” he babbles, “so good for me, take me so well,” and Sapnap whines, pushes himself forward and ignores the pressure at the back of his throat as best he can as George twitches again, panting slightly, “I’m close,” his voice is strained, “I can pull out-” Sapnap presses himself in closer, swallows around the feeling of choking as George cries out, Sapnap’s nose almost, almost touching his hip, just a little more, just a little deeper, Sapnap swallows again, feels George’s hands clench in his hair and his hips push forward once, twice, and then he twitches, and warm wet floods Sapnap’s mouth, spills from his lips as George pulls him away a little roughly and all at once Sapnap wrinkles his nose, taste bitter and unpleasant as he scrapes his tongue on his teeth, lets George’s come slide down his chin as he grimaces, and George giggles, breathless.

“I offered to pull out,” he says, smiling but sympathetic as he drags his thumb over the mess on Sapnap’s lower lip, “come sit up on the bed, babe”

Sapnap rises on slightly wobbly knees sits next to George, “That’s- it’s worse than I thought.”

“Yeah,” George laughs, leans forward and kisses Sapnap gently, “it’s pretty bad. You did really well though, panda bear,” he grabs his shirt, wipes Sapnap’s neck and chest while Sapnap blinks, stretches his jaw and winces at the taste in his mouth again, before throwing it down, murmuring, “we need tissues in here.”

George leans over to the bedside locker, hands Sapnap a glass of water. 

“Thank you.”

“Of course,” he smiles, voice smooth and warm, “and when you're ready, you can have your reward.” 

Sapnap smiles and sips the water, feels his stomach drop and watches George watching him, expression soft as he chews on his lip. Sapnap places the glass back down, and George grins, lets his hands slide up over Sapnap’s thighs and leans in, murmurs, “lean back, pandas,” seeming intensely satisfied when Sapnap does it without question. George picks the pillow up off the ground, stacks it on top of the other on the bed and guides Sapnap down, cotton cool against his back. 

“It’s okay if you don’t last very long,” George says warmly, runs a hand through Sapnap’s hair and smiles when he leans into the touch, and Sapnap would be embarrassed if not for the fact that he’s pretty sure he won’t.

“How come I was down there?” Sapnap murmurs as George leans in, presses his lips to Sapnap’s neck and laps at a fading hickey there as Sapnap wraps his arms around his shoulders, trying not to press too hard as he pulls George in.

“Cause I didn't want to move suddenly and hurt you, and you can relax,” Geprge rumbles, teeth grazing Sapnap, biting gently at his throat as his hand rises, bringing goosebumps up in its wake and George thumbs Sapnap’s nipple, hums at the gasp it draws from him, warm, “because I know I can hold you down.”

Sapnap shudders. 

George’s teeth and lips pull at him, and Sapnap lets his head fall to the side, lets George pull his legs open before getting his hands back on Sapnap’s chest, “So pretty, baby boy, so soft,” he murmurs, bites down again before pressing a line of kisses along his throat, down his sticky chest, “love how you open up for me,” he pushes his thigh against Sapnap’s as Sapnap gasps, “love your pretty sounds.” He sinks lower, drags his teeth over Sapnap’s skin and smiles at the moan he elicits. George kisses a path downward, and everywhere he touches Sapnap feels his body jump slightly before relaxing, electric somehow, twitching under George’s fingers and tongue. George bites into Sapnap’s hip, teeth sinking into softness and drags his hand down to lay his palm over Sapnap’s thigh as he moans.

George settles down there, a hand on each of Sapnap’s legs as he gently pulls them as wide as they’ll spread, hands splayed as he dips, laves his tongue over the spot he’d bitten. 

“Georgie, please,” Sapnap tilts his head back, curls fingers against George’s back as George hums a laugh.

“Hands in my hair, pretty boy,” George says, shifts slightly to bite into Sapnap’s thigh and Sapnap clings to his thick dark hair, bites his own lip as George sucks a mark into the soft skin of his inner thigh before rising slightly, leaning down between Sapnap’s hips to where he drips onto his tummy, oversensitive and twitchy, “look at me,” he murmurs. It’s not a request. 

Sapnap blinks down at George as he stares through dark lashes, opens rosy lips and takes him to the base almost immediately. Sapnap cries out, can't help but try to buck his hips but George’s hands dig into his thighs, press him down, helpless against the hot, wet pressure.

“Fuck! George, please! Ah- please, please,” George’s fingers dig into the give of his thighs and Sapnap whines. George pulls off with a wet pop.

“Good?” 

Sapnap moans, nods and watches as George takes the head back in his mouth, flicks the tip of his tongue over the slit and makes Sapnap twitch, jerk upward only to be stopped again, whining. His hand flies to his mouth and Sapnap bites down on his knuckle as George hollows his cheeks, sinks low, the tip of his nose pressed into the dark curls below Sapnap’s navel as he hums and the vibration wracks through Sapnap, gut clenching and thighs twitching under George’s hands.

“Please,” he mumbles, eyes squeezed shut, “please, please,” with no idea what he’s begging for, cries out as George swallows around him, grip in his hair tightening. George pushes down with one hand’ reaches up to pull Sapnap’s hand away from his face as he slides off, licks along the underside and takes a deep breath before moving back down’ leaves his hand off of Sapnap’s thigh, runs long thin fingers down his chest as Sapnap grips the sheets, pulls desperately as his pleas turn into moans, turn into stuttering gasps, one long, continuous whimper as George rolls Sapnap’s nipple under his fingertips, bobs his head and hums what sounds like a laugh when Sapnap’s voice cracks.

“George,” he cries out, “George I’m not gonna- I can’t, please,” and George nods around him, sucks hard and grips Sapnap’s hip when he cries out loudly, taking him deep and not pulling off as Sapnap twitches, squeezes his eyes shut and whines, letting himself unravel. George swallows thickly, doesn’t even pull off, sucks every twitch and aftershock from Sapnap until he’s sure he’ll die, thighs trembling and voice hoarse.

There is a slick, wet pop as George lets him go and rises, and Sapnap stares up at him, jaw dropped, panting and shuddery. George grins, licks his teeth, and winks. Sapnap would laugh if he could think.

“You think you can stand?”

“I- what?”

“I’m taking that as a no, c’mon I’ll help you into the shower you’re filthy.”

Sapnap nods, dazed, and lets George pull him up.


End file.
